Search and Rescue
by sovietdwarf
Summary: AU story centered on an OC plus an OC cast but featuring most of Okamoto's Elfen Lied cast at least in episodic roles. It overlaps and screws with the latter half or so of the manga. Any civil feedback will be appreciated and probably get a response.
1. Candidate

_Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Elfen Lied, or to characters in it. That would be Lynn Okamoto, who is a man by the way, but this stuff is strictly non-profit (writing practice notwithstanding) and for the free amusement of myself and my readers, if any. This is written according to British spelling, because (1) I live closer to Britain than the USA and (2) the original is better. Everything below is Not Safe For Work, mostly because of profanity, but the violence and a few nods to sexuality don't help either. _

_Certain chapters will contain events derived directly from the Elfen Lied graphic novel (and readers may not understand certain things unless they've read it); I have rewritten the characters' lines (from the probably inaccurate English translation I read) and most of their actions to make it at least _somewhat_ my content as well as accommodate my own characters._

_This is a doubly revised version, though the story is the same and most changes are minor (such as standardizing all measurements to metric). I thought I'd proofread this thing thoroughly, but such was not the case, and I bet there are still mistakes inside now. As the last update, I'm going to put this in the Teen rating, since all censors are way more concerned about sexual content than violence and swearing, and there is nothing in here to top violent T (or equivalent)-rated films, which are by default far more explicit than written text._

"FALL IN YOU MAGGOTS!"

The thirty candidates, mostly post-humans, or PH's, coming in all descriptions of skin tone, size and clothes, flinched at the bellowing voice but didn't realize it was directed at them. The giant sergeant marched toward the group. "WHAT PART OF FALL IN DIDN'T YOU HEAR? Form a fucking straight line in front of me! Do it now!"

The tired people, all of them young adults, rushed to obey him and they had to find their own common point of reference. The planet's gravity, a chest-clinching, bone-damaging, choking 1.91 standard g's, suppressed their movements; even the PH's, even the almost 220 centimetre tall monster of a sergeant, needed the gravity pill to stay healthy in it. The gravity pill induced faster repair cycles in the circulatory system and the skeleton, to stop them from eroding, and strengthened the eyes and internal ears to keep them of the proper shape. With it, people could live the full lifespan in up to about the 2.5g range, where even a bit of vertical acceleration blacked you out, but it didn't make it comfortable and, PH or not, it took a lot of training to overcome the crushing fatigue, especially shortness of breath, it induced, and it was still ridiculously easy to tear ligaments.

The sergeant, whose name tag read Chase, circled their motley formation, shoving hard at people who were not in line with the rest. "Stand up straight! Where do you think you are? Welfare? Only the pussies on Earth have WELFARE. Stand up straight! This is not WELFARE, you bitches! Did you read the sign?"

He was referring to the plaque of the large monument they'd all been propped against until a minute ago. It read 'Full Course Close Combat Training,' and underneath, 'Extreme Temperature, High Gravity and Coriolis Force Department' – essentially, where soldiers were trained to fight in the Universe's most extreme conditions that were even remotely like liveable. Normal humans couldn't do it; it took PH's, other genetically engineered people or the extremely rare mutants with enough uncanny benefits, and being qualified for ECCC – extreme conditions close combat – meant elite status.

"You'd better answer your superiors when they see fit to talk to dregs like you!" barked Chase when nobody answered him. "And since you pussies are just civilians, you say 'sir' at the end of your first sentence! Not that you pukes have anything to say worth more than one sentence. Got that?"

They answered, beaten down by the planet's punishing pull: "Yes sir!"

"I've heard the sand answer with more energy than that! Now, got that?"

"Yes sir!" They howled it louder this time. One of them, a tall chunky PH boy who already had a proper military tonsure, was the loudest.

The sergeant got in his face at once. "What's your name, chunky puff?"

"Collins, George, sir!"

"You served before, chunky puff?"

"No sir!"

"I can tell! Don't you worry, we'll have that puppy fat right off before you beg to quit! Unless you beg to quit now, of course! Beg to quit, fat ass, while you can still beg!"

"No sir!"

"No my ass! You'll quit this evening, or you'll fucking die here! What're you all looking at? Think you're entitled to stare at me? Peripheral vision's not doing it for you? Eyes forward! And what's with this posture, you maggots? You even know how to stand to attention?"

"Yes sir!" shouted everybody.

"Squad, teen-SHUN!"

They stood to attention in various levels of correctness. He went through them, savagely chewing out those who were sloppy about it.

There was supposed to be a strange one this time around: a speciated human, called a 'Diclonius' because of the two short, cat ear-like horns on either temple, just above and in front of the ears, and only ten years old, because they matured at double speed and her high IQ had allowed to complete basic and medium education way ahead of time, though with not a few discipline and violence problems. Other characteristics included red irises, hair in shades of pink and red, and the ability to create extremely powerful hand-like projections, a little over two meters long in this case, only visible in the medium UV range and strong enough to tear ordinary humans apart like paper, injure or restrain PH's or annoy one such as the sergeant. Though this candidate had undergone genetic treatment to blacken her hair.

Chase spotted her soon enough: the smallest in the group by far, last on the left, around 150-160 cm, skinny, the horns, long black hair and a cutesy ash cheongsam with white floral models. To a giant PH like him, she still looked like a ten year old child; she was standing to attention flawlessly, or almost, and scowling. He was almost moved to pity, for this girl had a lot of potential. Trainees like that were set aside for increased abuse in official policy.

"What's your name, you little sugar?" he said in a voice that approached baby talk.

The girl swallowed hard. "Y –Yamada Toshiko," she said weakly.

"The word is SIR!" She flinched hard at that.

"Yes sir…"

"Louder!"

"Yes sir!"

Chase turned an ear toward her. "Didn't catch that!"

"YES SIR!"

"You won't be here long, so I'll keep my eye on you too. Breathing a little hard there, cupcake! This course has a ten percent fatality rate from exposure alone, missy; that means YOU and two more maggots! Got a death wish?"

"No sir!"

"Then maybe you'll have time to get one, and if there's anything I'll let you shits have as much as you can handle, it's death wishes AND their fulfilment. Beyond Miss Me Love You Long Time and the two other pussies-in-chief here, another one of you will commit suicide, someone will be killed by another trainee fucking up, I and the other instructors here might kill one or two of you directly, and at least fifteen will drop out and learn that E-Triple-C is not for weak maggots like you! Anybody want to get your ass off this rock before you fucking DIE?"

"No sir," they answered.

"Like you've got a pair of lungs between you all, maggots!"

"No sir!" they yelled.

"You can leave your civilian shit out here," he said; a few of the candidates, including the Diclonius girl, had luggage. "You don't need it here and you won't need it when you rotate to Hell for R&R! Your betters will practice on them with H.E. That's high explosives! And you won't need your hair. Barrack seven, on the double!" He pointed at one of the innocuous Quonset huts spread in neat rows throughout the base. The candidates forced themselves into a jog toward it; the sergeant grabbed the girl's shoulder. "You stop!"

"Sir?"

"What's that gliding shit you're doing? I can see your ghost hands when I want to, cupcake! When I say on the double I mean with your fucking LEGS!"

"Y-yes sir…" Her projections vanished and her feet landed on the ground. She wobbled.

"Bullshit! Where's your voice?"

"Yes sir!"

"If I see a ghost hand on the ground I'll shove it down your throat! Barracks seven, on the double! Move!" Telling him that projections didn't work that way didn't sound like a good idea. So she tried to run, tripping and falling at once on all fours under the crushing weight. When she didn't get up at once, Sergeant Chase bellowed some more: "What the fuck are you doing down there, fishing for paedophiles? That's how whores sit! Are you a whore, Trainee Cupcake?"

She stood back up. "Hell no, sir!"

"Bullshit again, Trainee Whore! Let's see you at the double on your own feet, then! Move it!" So she did, and at every step it felt like her ankle tore. "Come on, I don't mean to fucking retire before you get there! You just can't keep up without your ghost hands, can you? Why don't you quit now before you get hurt?"

"I'm not used to quitting, sir," she managed between her teeth.

"Eyes front! Think you can take this program?"

"Yes sir!"

Without a warning, his foot flew into her face, and sent her into a spinning fall. She'd only managed to start projecting, so the last approach had been like kicking through thick jelly, but it had still broken her skin. If she hadn't projected at all it would have taken her head right off. "On your feet if you can take it! Use your body, and add ghost hands only when you need to!"

The girl painstakingly picked herself up under the looks of some of the other new trainees who were waiting at the hut's entrance and the scattered personnel and jogging platoons around the base. Her dress was dirty and ruined, and blood was flowing down her face and neck onto it. She didn't protest and didn't cry, but continued to jog, casting the sergeant a murderous look ("Eyes front!"), and using her projections within her legs to add the needed strength. "Less ghost, more muscle," the sergeant ordered. "That's what I thought, Trainee _Cupcake_! You're too dumb to be a whore and too dumb to quit, so you'll stay here and die. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT? INSIDE, ON THE DOUBLE!"


	2. Team Leaders

"Attention, team leader!" howled TMS (Trainer Master-Sergeant) Veers in her booming, always-raspy voice; her vast chest heaved as she did so. The trainees, who had no name tags, were exhausted. They had just marched for twenty-eight straight hours with full kit through thick, undomesticated jungle, in 1.75 g's and 40 degrees Celsius in the shade and only three one hour brakes. The sky was red and the star was red and always in the same place. It was the end of the third brake.

Most of the trainees were huge young adults who would've stood out as giants on Earth, especially the girls, which were actually a bit bigger than the boys because of their wider hips and (not so importantly) their breasts. They were all PH's though, and size was an attribute of their race, along with freakish strength and almost unbelievable durability; the team's average height was 191 cm. It took hellish marches like this one to bring them in such a state that, at their destination, which was marked only by the presence of the TMS and her one-person hover-bike, they had simply collapsed and quickly removed their shoes, panting heavily; some vomited, but the puke was thin, and for the whole time TMS Veers had ignored them. An hour later, they were still breathing heavy, but their feet were dry. One of them was different – a small young woman, with black hair and short horns in front of her ears, and a dishevelled face. She wore the broken-down fatigues and numbered cap and carried the full kit – survival pack, effects, weapons, ammo, everything – and she'd removed her minuscule boots and wheezed and panted and cursed like everyone else, but they had long since sucked in the last of their rations while she still had more than two thirds of hers. The TMS, who was in full kit herself but fresh and clean, furiously waded through the trainees, stepping right over the tiny woman, and bellowed with redoubled strength: "Team leader! Where the fuck are you?" She randomly pointed at a black boy. "You there! Number?"

He stood to attention on his empty ration bag, to keep his feet dry, and shouted pitifully: "Zero-five, TMS!"

She closed up and screamed right at his eyes: "Who, and where, is the duck-fucking team leader?"

The boy pointed a shaking finger to her left, right in the middle of the heap of bodies: "There! Pinkerton, fourteen, TMS!"

Pinkerton was another black boy, and had been in the program for two years. Veers picked him up, struggling, with one hand; he was unconscious and limp. She'd opened her mouth and drawn breath to snarl at him but there was nothing to snarl at, so, with a growl, she threw him back down. "Seems Mr. Fourteen is down for the count!" She drew a laminated sheet of paper from her pockets, unfolded and consulted it briefly: "That's the fourth one in this march you've lost, out of twenty? Bunch of useless pussies! Call yourselves fighters? You couldn't even fight a fucking head cold! In a real situation there might not be the option to airlift you before you're worm food! In fact, given that the fucking _weather_ can also remove that possibility, I am disgusted that you would let any of your teammates fall this low!" Her tirade finally woke Pinkerton up a little; he moaned. The TMS noticed at once: "Can you stand, Fourteen? Stand to attention, you filth!"

The boy only moaned more, and managed a barely audible "can't". Veers spat on him, and kicked him in the ribs, sending him rolling into three other trainees. He was getting very light treatment, especially for this TMS, who prided herself in treating the trainees almost as bad as she did the enemy in real wars.

"You are no longer the team leader!" She checked the list again and for the tiniest moment grinned with impure delight. "Attention, Twenty!"

The tiny woman summoned two projections of power which slammed into the mud and propelled her into crisp attention. Another held her from the front, and her feet were hovering a centimetre off the mud. "Yes, TMS!" she screamed.

"You are the new team leader!"

'Oh, shit.' How she wanted to moan it out loud.

"Yes, TMS!" she screamed again.

"Sort out this scum in a line, if you even understand a simple fucking line! Six-zero seconds!"

Yamada (that was her name, she forced herself daily to remember) gulped and grasped for – or snatched at – her voice. "Boots on! Kits on! Line by numbers, move it! Move it!" She tried to imitate the authoritative howl of the TMS and in spite of the comparative shrillness, it worked somewhat: everybody except Pinkerton got up and put back on their socks and boots and sorted out their packs and weapons. Yamada remembered at the last moment to snatch the satellite phone and map from Pinkerton and took her place at the right end of the line. "Teen-shun!" she screamed, and sixteen pairs of boots rattled as they all snapped to attention. With about one second to spare, she reported: "Team 4F, present and correct, TMS!"

The report itself was correct, but... "Correct my ass! The correct training team 4F was twenty fucking people! Your own cap has twenty on it! Training you brats costs a lot more time and energy than most of you will ever be worth!" She looked into the team leader's eyes, and they were defiant, and the full redness of their irises didn't help very much. Veers had given her two near-death beatings and had once subjected her to 65 hours of continuous PT in full campaign kit for minor damage to a rifle, but all that had only nurtured Twenty's defiance and pride as well as making her one of the toughest recruits Veers had ever seen, in spite of her extremely fragile body, so she went on with her business: "Small rations for the last leg!" And she took the one-kilogram bags of highly nutritious red paste from her pack one by one, tossing them to the trainees. She held the last one, which was for Yamada. "Need this, Team Leader?" she asked snidely, still howling loud enough to scare creatures for a mile around.

"Yes, TMS!" replied Yamada. 'Let's see what you do now,' thought Veers. The new team leader snatched it with a projection, while handing out her almost three-quarters full standard ration to Pinkerton, who grabbed it weakly. The ration would at least keep him alive and able to shoot at any dangerous beasts if the salvage team was late.

The TMS nodded curtly. "Getting better, Twenty; maybe in another hundred years you will learn to be a team player! I should beat you more often as it at least seems to work. And if anybody in your team gives me any trouble you will be in a WORLD of pain! You will report to base camp at twenty hundred hours, with the sixteen lumps you called a correct training team! If you fail to bring all the bodies, or you miss the ETA by more than five minutes in either direction there will be blood, and worse!" Without another word, and disregarding the confirmation ("Yes, TMS!") she climbed on the hover-bike, started it and zoomed away in what Yamada, looking at the map, soon discovered to be a wrong direction. Base camp was 56 miles of thick jungle to the north by north-west, more or less; they had 13 hours minus small change to get there.

"You heard her," snapped Yamada at her team. "Turn in that direction!" She pointed it. "Three rows, and stay close to each other. Let's move; if we're late they might not let us in!" And the soldiers-to-be trudged on, between two huge, short trees which could have had houses carved inside their trunks, while Yamada, at the small column's side, splashed around with her projections, which issued from her chest and moved her vastly tired body like a rag doll. Still, but for the highly dubious honour of being named team leader, she was happy, for the ECCC soldiers were set apart – the toughest. She could take this regime, and had been taking it for 19 months, where not many could. Let alone what would come after.


	3. To Earth

"You think she's ready, Chase?"

"Yes sir. She'll deliver, and an experienced soldier will not be able to track them."

"Indeed. She's the best Diclonius we have. Of course you knew that, ever since you kicked her face in. Not that we need an EC trainee on Earth."

The other man stood even straighter and cleared his throat. They were wearing the eternal military fatigues, and both of them had the E-Triple-C's black and gold rank markings. The smaller one wore them better and his epaulettes with four thick stripes revealed him to be a colonel; the larger man has such huge muscles that they even stretched the ordinarily baggy trousers and jacket, and he had the three chevrons of a sergeant on either arm. The building interior was just as stark: muted colours, Spartan furniture, the buzzing of fans and other machines; only the medium-low ambient light and the exaggerated cleanliness were concessions to comfort and atmosphere.

"Anyway, you'd better hope there are no hard feelings. She's managed to stay team leader for six months and counting."

"I know, sir."

"Well, I've got a jumper to catch. Here's the file." He handed the bigger man a thin plastic dossier. It was taken, with a small hint of reluctant distaste. "It's easy to remember, but even I have to suck up to the pen pushers. Yamada's in tactical; she'll be out in twenty. Or earlier, knowing her! She knows to come here. I'll be seeing you, Sergeant."

"Sir!" The sergeant's heels clicked with a very loud snap as he saluted. The colonel returned the salute and was on his way, and the Sergeant sat down to read reports about trainees. About twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Come in!"

Yamada, her face glistening with sweat, let herself in and saluted sloppily. "Wanted to see me, Sarge?"

"I wanted to see you salute correctly," he growled. "Think you can at least do that?" Yamada rolled her eyes for the briefest time and did it right. He returned it. "You know how many Diclonii there are in the FFP?"

She looked up. "A few, I think. A hundred thousand?"

"A hundred and fifty-one, most babies, but ten are in various branches of the military. Six have taken up close combat; two have graduated, one has failed, and three, including yourself, are still in training. You're the first and as yet only one to take the full ECCC."

Yamada frowned. "Why so few? If we are so well speciated from Homo Sapiens..." she trailed off.

"We don't know. We have no idea how you evolved, and we have no idea how you reproduce. Most of your species is stuck on Earth, and apart from recruiting useful candidates our contacts with the Sol system are very few. Also, I take it you are aware that your parents were not Diclonii?"

"Yes, Sergeant." An undercurrent of anger at the parents who abandoned her, but she suppressed it: 'All's well that ends well. Fuck'em anyway.'

"We want you to go to Earth and get some answers."

A great grin opened on her face. Training had changed her; Yamada had been a child – ambitious, intelligent and violent, but a child; now, she was a fighter, maybe even a soldier, she had 1% body fat and her face was hard, angular and not that unlike most PH's. Even when she smiled sincerely: then the cute baby-face which she'd had was now only a hint. She quickly controlled herself.

"Why me? You said there were two Diclonii who already graduated."

"Various reasons, not the least of which is that you can speak passable Japanese. This is why you bothered with it, right?"

She eyed him coldly and down her nose. "I looked up languages that are rare in the FFP, and I came up with Cherokee, Japanese and Estonian, and learned them all. I hate Japanese."

"You still know it," he said, ignoring her hostility and lapse in military courtesy. She had already demonstrated enough stubbornness to have her way in such matters even if she got killed, and she was too good otherwise to kill, or even flunk. "Your species is only found in a particular area of Japan. And, for some reason, it's completely under the radar. We don't know if there even are any more. But, given how we found most of you, we can expect that you won't be welcomed, so you are going armed if you want to take this mission."

That raised her eyebrows. "If I want it, sergeant?"

"You're still in training, and you'd still have to be in training for another 13 months. I can't order you to a mission, I can only ask. Of course, if you do accept, and your performance is satisfactory, you would graduate."

"I'm twelve years old. I'll take the mission, but are you sure about this?"

"You're fully grown, Yamada. You might actually look twelve to us, but on Earth you'd look like a mature woman – if a short one. And mentally you're as mature as your body – not that that's anything much, mind. You're still a baby, but on Earth it's not that dangerous."

"I'm not _afraid_."

"Ever killed a man on purpose, Yamada?"

"Negative, sergeant."

"Well, there's a reason all of you Diclonius children were abandoned, and like as not, it's probably because they hate you down there. Seeing how you're way stronger than them, anyway. If you go on this mission, you'll likely have to kill people, and you probably won't have the option to do it from fifty miles away with an orbiting bullet, but you'll be face to face. Don't take that lightly because it's not as easy as tactical, and if you are found to enjoy it too much, you'll be iced or worse. Also, if you're captured we'll do try to get you out, but don't expect anyone to start a war on your behalf."

"I'd like to try my hand all the same."

"Alright, then, here's the file. There isn't a lot more in it. Gear up and report to weapons depot in fifteen. Your pod is No. 386, dock 8, and it should reach the Herod, which is hidden behind the dark side of the Earth's moon, in fifty hours; you'll find civilian clothes there. Take the file with you, the transport arrangements and credentials are in there. Just fill in your name. The op-com will be Lieutenant Colonel T. Southouse, who will have more details as well. Good luck, Yamada. Dismiss!"


	4. Third Degree Encounter

The pod was falling into Earth's weak gravitational pull, but it was falling quickly and it was for good reason that most of its volume was dedicated to shock dampening. Even so, the normally constrained space inside was designed for a PH combatant, with half a dozen weapons and plenty of ammunition for them. That usually meant someone who was over 190 cm tall and weighed 140 kilograms or more in full kit (PH's had high bone and muscle density). Trainee Yamada was 155 centimetres tall and weighed 44 kilograms naked, and about 64 with clothes, assault rifle, sidearm, a knife that could pass for a short sword, bullets and the small backpack full of Japanese banknotes, mostly of the biggest denomination of 10,000 yens.

The special alloy shell was shined to an almost perfect mirror and didn't become bright with heat, so she was effectively invisible until contact with the sea. She was alone, in darkness only broken by a few pathetic red lights, and heading into an unknown world, which was enormously overpopulated, probably very hostile, certainly very different and uncomfortable culturally, with a gravity that was too low and would atrophy her muscles if she stayed too long. It was exciting.

The first, light shock told her the breaking engines were online. They were inconspicuous, and would appear only as a faint triple light in the day sky outside, and only for a few seconds until the second, nastier shock came. This was the pod crashing into the shallow sea, sending exploding water in every direction, not only from the force of impact but also because of the extreme heat of the outer shell. The last and biggest shock, about 3 vertical g's for half a second, meant the actual land. Yamada breathed deeply, flipped open a little plastic case and pushed the blue button under it. The pod's door swung inward and water flooded inside. It was cold, but she ignored it, and when the pod was full enough the door automatically swung out and she powered herself out with her projections. She couldn't risk simply springing out of the water, so she swam like a squid, with projections for tentacles, until the water was less than half her height deep.

A torrent of mixed scalding and cold water drenched the lone man on the beach, and he swore obscenely. The bag full of trash and the tweezers fell out of his hands. The bag tore and the trash in it spilled in an unsightly pile. The glasses were torn off his unnatural-looking eyes. After a minute or so of trying to clean up the sand on his coat he righted himself: "What the fuck was that? If that bitch comes now she'll have enough junk to kill me ten times over with! Goddamn..."

His tirade was nipped in the bud when suddenly someone emerged out of the shallow water not ten meters from him and breathed in. A girl in black shiny leather stepped out of the ocean. She was wading uncomfortably, the water pouring out from her sleeves and later from under the greatcoat. Her hair was black and trimmed short to the point that it was little more than stubble. Her face was harsh and much tanned. But, and he didn't know whether to be glad, enraged or scared, there were horns on either side of her forehead, Diclonius horns, and her eyes were Diclonius red-and-vicious. She jerked her rifle a few times to clear the water out of the barrel and stepped onto dry land.

"Fucking bitch, don't move!" he yelled and trained his Desert Eagle at her face. "You can't deflect the ammo in this gun!"

She stopped, and used all of her projections to make an invisible convex shield in front of herself. The man had spoken in Japanese, so she answered, a bit clumsy with the words, in the same language. "They told me you people would be hostile, but this? What's your problem, Eurasian?" Her hand had been on the rifle all along; now it was pointed at his chest.

His face was thoroughly local, but he was tall, big, made bigger by his greatcoat, and his hair was light brown. "Don't give me that bullshit, you monster! I know what you are, like the bitch that did this to me!" The right sleeve of his coat was pulled back a little and beyond the glove, machine parts were barely visible. Not to the newcomer, because he was holding the gun with the same hand.

"What the fuck are you supposed to be, anyway? Is that any way to hold a firearm? You fucking amateur! Get out of my face before I treat you to some depleted uranium." Her voice was as high and shrill as one might expect, but that didn't prevent the threat from sounding real.

His face contorted until he almost looked like an old man. "You little bitch, what did you just call me? I'm going to shit down your throat, rifle or not! If you don't want to suffer before you die, you'd better throw it away and get down on your knees!"

"Right after you pull your head out of your arse! I'm here to get Diclonii out of here. If you'd like them gone, think about that before you shoot at me."

"Ha! You dumbass, I don't want you monsters out of Japan, I want you all dead, and the more by my hand the better!"

Toshiko cocked her head to the left. "Well that doesn't work for me. I don't much like you, and I'm thinking that I should kill you. Just get the fuck out of my way, and I won't!"

"Oh, you won't kill me, huh? Gee, thanks, you dumb bitch!" And he pulled the trigger. The heavy bullet tore through her defences, her coat and the skin of her shoulder. Fucking pupils hadn't shown her when he shot! She shot him at the same time and the bullet sent him back and down, spraying blood from his back.

Yamada sprang forward; he screamed, blood came out of his mouth and he tried to train the gun on her again, but her projection snatched it and the hand away and flung them in the water. "Fuck... you..." he managed.

"No, you're the one who's fucked," she said, and put another shot in his face.

There was nobody else on the beach; it was cold, late autumn, she'd been told, but she had been taught to tolerate any weather and had two layers of leather and one of silk on anyway. She stood in the same position, even including outstretched projections, for a few moments, and then walked woodenly inland, the weapon still in her hand and her mouth left slightly open. Her mind was blank and she stared forward into nothing; thankfully the beach was empty but for the corpse, which the ocean was caressing as if it were fawning over a dear, dead friend.

'It hurts... it hurts so much...' Yamada gasped. It was as if someone had spoken into her head, someone unknown, but at the same time familiar. 'It hurts...' again. It was another Diclonius, a much weakened, very hurt Diclonius in tremendous pain. 'Run... run away...'

"Son of a BITCH!" Howling, Yamada forgot trauma and caution and used all her power to run in the direction of the pitiful 'voice', which soon added 'kill me' to its pitiful wail. The image of the disfigured upper half of a humanoid formed in her head, and the voice issued from it. She could jump much higher in the low gravity of Earth and she made light of several tall fences until finally landing in the backyard garden of a large building, smashing the tiles she'd braked on into bits ('Run!... Now!...'). She sprang over the small decorative fountain, blasted the nearest door open with unnecessary violence and ran to the source, arriving in the entrance hall within seconds. She ignored everything but the man, dressed like her but with a beige fedora pulled over his forehead, who was standing next to a great plastic backpack. The backpack! She physically lunged forward to put her outermost projection within range and blocked the brutal kick, saving the creature inside to its immediate dismay. There was a yell and a heavy steel ball glanced onto the top of her head, almost missing, but its barbs stuck it there. She launched two more projections, barely reaching the man's hands, which were holding a crude, curious weapon, and crushed them.

Or so she thought. The projections disappeared, drowned into an abyss of pain, like nothing she'd ever felt. Her wounded animal scream was so loud, coming as it did from powerful lungs used with heavier air, that the man was driven back for a moment. With the last vestige of willpower, she tried to lunge at him but only managed a spasmodic jerk as he laughed and turned his attention elsewhere... he talked, shot the thing at someone else, then wanted to "play with a human girl for a change..." and the voice turned into TMS Veers, howling at her muddy, fallen body: "On your feet, Yamada! To be E-Triple-C you got to beat the pain! There's nothing wrong with your body, it's just your nerves fucking with you!"


	5. 28

Mayu was transfixed by the spiked iron ball at the end of the crossbow, and the size of the evil man who was virtually on top of her. "...But you're too stupid even for that," he said. "See you in hell!" He shot, and the ball plunged into the floor next to Mayu's ear, and the man gasped for air. There was a bloody thing sticking out of his chest. It disappeared, and he was pulled back and shoved aside to reveal a smaller, but just as frightening figure – a girl, dressed like him less the fedora and glasses, with red eyes, horns like Nana and a grimace of rage and pain that could only belong on a demon. The whole face was bloody and there was one of the evil man's spiked balls lodged onto her head. But the 'demon' was more interested in the man, who got stomped on the groin.

"Fucker!" she snarled, and she forced off the spiked ball off with the huge, blood-soaked knife she was carrying, instantly feeling better and more composed. She looked down to Mayu, and seeing her exposed from the waist down, her face contorted even more. Her armed hand jerked as if she'd wanted to stab Mayu but changed her mind. "I presume you've no great friendship with this piece of shit. Got a name?"

Two big, watery eyes looked at her with abject terror. "Ma – Mayu..."

Yamada jabbed a finger at her face. "You're just life support for your twat, _Mayu_! Don't get in my way." She picked up the crossbow, cut its string, threw it back down, and turned away, wheezing, and slumped. "Oh... oh... damn me, it hurts like hell... couldn't have taken much more..." she could send out projections again, and feel the other two of her kind suffering. In a haze, ignoring the wailings of the half-naked girl, she tested herself by plucking out the two (!) spiked balls out of the whole girl, who was unconscious. Yamada's pain was diminished, but it was still there in force. The thing in the tall backpack was still awake, and spoke in the only way it could, in her mind: 'please, big sister... kill me...'

"...The fuck? Sister? Anyway, listen... if you can listen. You don't have to die, I can have you fixed up, I think – are you a Diclonius?" 'Yes...' "Hell, there was no reason to ask. Then I can definitely have you fixed! I'll just call my people and as long as your brain still works they can still save you! Just hang in there!"

'Please... it hurts so much...'

Reminded of her own recent succumbing to pain, Yamada got annoyed. "Aah! Suck it up, huh? You managed it this long; you can take it a few more minutes!"

'Tube in my back... gives more pain... vector... pull it out...'

"Alright, alright!" She opened the pack's controls. It seemed to be a life support system for a human body – the top half, anyway. Everything below the diaphragm, except the rest of the spine, had been removed, and the windpipes and eyes were destroyed too. The controls' buttons were labelled with an unintelligible chicken scratch – Japanese pictograms. "Fuck it," she growled, and stuck a projection in, finding the creature's back. There were three tubes in it. "Which one? You'd better tell me which one I can pull out that won't kill you, or I'll leave you like this until the team gets here!"

'All... all...'

"You sure? If you trick me into killing you I'll find you in hell and you don't want that!"

'All... please...' She yanked them out. At once, the mangled body's pain subsided by about half, and it slumped against the pack's inside. 'Thank you... big sister...'

But Yamada wasn't listening, she was howling into the closed-circuit phone: "Wolf Den, come in! This is Kiche! Come in already!"

Southouse answered himself after a while, in his calm, old man voice: "This is Wolf Den. We copy. Found something so early?"

There was a delay of at least three seconds between any communications.

"Fuckin' A I found something! Two cubs, one fainted, one very badly injured! She's missing arms, legs, eyes, and the abdomen! Need evacuation for her with a med-team, A.S.A.P! She is on life support but it's crude and it looks damaged; I don't know how much it will last!"

"Can she be moved safely?"

"Affirmative on that, the thing was designed to be mobile!"

"We're dropping the team at your landing location. Rendezvous there in five. You're responsible for avoiding exposure, so be careful who you bring! Is that other cub stable?"

Yamada cast a perfunctory glance at the other Diclonius girl, investigating her within the link they shared as Diclonii as well. "Looks like it. She'll hate her life when she wakes up, but she'll live."

"Alright," said the colonel. "Leave her there. We'll see about her soon, but saving the threatened one comes first. See you at the rendezvous point. Wolf Den out."

Yamada holstered the phone and, satisfied, stood with hands akimbo, looking at the large case as if the Diclonius inside could see her. She picked it up very gently with projections, almost like a hug and switched back to Japanese: "You're safe now, we'll have you on proper life support and no more pain before you know it, and when you wake up you'll have your legs back. Schedule's tight – what the fuck do you want?" She'd turned and snapped at Mayu, who was tugging on her shoulder. The girl shrunk away with a tiny whimper. She was almost as tall as Yamada and about her weight, but her body was soft and weak, like her voice:

"Have you seen Mr. Bandou on your way here? He promised to save me if I called him, but he didn't answer..."

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Please! He lived on the beach..."

"Aw, cock! Let me guess. Eurasian, medium height, young, brown hair, with an evil temper? Picked junk up on the beach?"

Mayu's heart leapt. She leapt too. "Yes! Please! Have you seen him?"

"I wouldn't waste any more brain cells on him," said Yamada coldly. "He's dead."

The little girl fell on her loins – a position which thankfully masked her exposed privates – and looked up at her with tears in her eyes, looking crushed. She managed to ask, in the tiniest voice: "How?"

"I killed him," said Yamada, and opened the door. A boy said something or other about fish on the other side, and the reply was a joyous and strident "Nyuuu!"

Unthinkingly, Yamada stepped out and came nose to nose with three people, which recoiled from her blood-soaked face. In doing so, they blocked the gate. Yamada was out of patience, and the poison from the damned iron ball still hurt like hell. She took a step forward against a bit of wind; her opened overcoat revealed the jacket and the three weapons underneath before flapping back over them, but her hand interjected and rested on the pistol's handle to form a more understandable threat than some bogus about invisible hands. The boots, however small, sounded ominous on the irregular stone tiles. "Stand aside," she snapped. Anxiously, the Diclonius in the pack transmitted: 'Please... don't hurt them...' "I won't do anything serious," said Yamada in Cherokee, hoping that the other would understand something, somehow.

"Wait a minute, who are you?" asked the boy. He was in the middle and did the most gate-blocking. Yamada took out the gun and cracked him one in the temple with its butt, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The girls on either side of him screamed; one grabbed her head. Yamada stepped over the boy, followed by the floating pack. She had a wide, cocky gait, and she marched down toward the beach. Not many steps later, there was a cold voice:

"Where do you think you're going?" And a feeling of power that hit her like a slap on the face.

"Far away from you," Yamada snapped back, and she broke into as fast a sprint as her power, and the safety of her charge, allowed, until she couldn't sense the possessor of the cold voice at least for a little while. She grabbed the pack. "You're safe. You hear that?"

There was the sound of ion-jet engines, and a strange craft with a mirror hull, nearly impossible to see unless one knew what to look for, what was hovering over the beach. "They're good people up there. You might be feeling three of our kind. They'll put you back together; they won't hurt you or anything."

'Big Sister... thank you... so happy...'

"Name's Yamada Toshiko, by the way. What's yours?"

'They only... called me '28'...'


	6. Evac

Lieutenant Colonel Terrence Southouse was a native of Bristol, a genetics and medical specialist whose military rank was more one of the many accolades for his role in creating (and later freeing) the Post-Humans than anything else, but this was the first time in fifty-three of his seventy-one years he'd stepped on Earth, and there was no time for romantic remembrance. There was a large backpack to open, so he did it, turned on his flashlight and looked inside. The poor thing inside was on the limit of what could be called alive and, as he'd been informed, it had no eyes, but it, or rather she, could hear. "There, there, little one," he said in Japanese, which he'd learned for the new DDRP – Diclonius Discovery and Recruitment Program, which he was heading. He reached into the tank, as Yamada Toshiko disconnected all the invasive tubes 'remotely'. He lifted the way too light body by the armpits – the arms were chopped above the elbow – and placed her gently into a padded trauma-vat. "Now, we're going to grow you new body parts. You'll be alright. It's good that you can still breathe yourself; you're doing great."

"She's coming sir, you'd better be off in double time. This one is _not _civilized!"

"Alright, alright," he said, smiling. He thrust the feeding needle of the trauma-vat through a large sheet of laminated paper. "Is she transmitting anything not private?" he asked.

"She says she likes your voice," said Yamada after a few seconds. "Sir, could you hurry the fuck up? The one that's coming is way too strong for even four of us to ensure your security." There were three Diclonii, medical students, and a French young doctor, in the ship. They were comfortable with the Earth gravity.

Southouse shook his head disapprovingly. He turned back to the vat. "Can you raise your head, dear?" The mutilated head rose up almost immediately and stayed that way, though evidently the strain was great. "Let it back down, now. That's a good girl. Now, if it stings badly, raise it for a few moments, alright?" He took up a large tankard full of blue liquid and poured it liberally on the girl, even into the eye sockets, avoiding only the nose and mouth, until it permeated the padding underneath. He rapidly connected the other life support tubes to the girl's crudely prepared orifices and looked at Yamada, who smiled:

"She loves it. Greatest feeling in her life, she says."

Checking to see a bead of liquid on its point, he drove the feeding needle as gently as he could into her aorta, so that the paper was covering her breasts, which, while still whole, were badly bruised. No head rising. Of course, a needle was a pitiful farce next to what she'd been through. He fastened the girl in as snugly as possible with suction cups, closed the vat and gave the last of the juice to Yamada: "Here, douse your head with this. You look terrible."

She did so, too, with a studied carelessness. The oily liquid relieved much of her pain. In the distance, a second craft was recuperating her pod from the ocean.

"Please take our patient in," said Southouse to the other Diclonii. Their projections gently pulled the two and a half metre vat into the ship, and anchored it to the floor. "It's not certain that we'll save her," he said. "Her heart is so weak that I can't sedate her safely. Is the wild one here yet?"

"Negative, sir, she's walking normally."

"May I shake your hand...? _Private_ Yamada? You've done well. It's unfortunate that you had to kill those two young gentlemen, but you probably saved that poor girl's life."

She took it eagerly. "Thanks very much, sir, but they were fuckers, not gentlemen."

Southouse frowned. "Please don't use that kind of language with me. I'm probably wrong but I don't like to think I deserve it."

"Come on, seriously? I – I mean yes sir. Sorry, sir. Hey! Do you have any heavy artillery on that ship?" The ship looked like a cross between a Chinook helicopter and an airplane. It had two large propellers on top of its bulky main body, a skirted fuselage, a long, thin tail section starting above its main bay at the rear, which ended in a large V-tail, and two slender wings tipped in mobile engines which could be trained in almost any direction. Because they were essentially tiny fusion reactors which belched atoms, heat and free electrons out the exhaust like rocket engines, rather than actual ion thrusters, they were mostly called ion jets as a misnomer, one which suggested a much lower level of technology.

"It isn't weaponized. We are not allowed to use armed craft in Earthly air space for a peaceful pickup operation," said Southouse, admiring the ship.

"Will this do?" asked the doctor from its spacious inside, holding a grenade launcher and a thick baldric with grenades attached to it.

"Great! Give me the launcher, but keep the belt; I don't want anyone squeezing those with their projections while it's on me." He held it out and she snatched it by projection.

Southouse looked inland. "Is that the wild one?"

Yamada looked. "Yes sir! And there is a second bogey incoming, so it's time to evacuate! I don't know how far you have to get to be safe, but I'll at least delay her." Southouse shuffled up on the ship's ramp and Yamada took the overcoat off and threw it onto the sand; the ship took off and the ramp closed.

"Get back in one piece, Yamada! That's an order!" shouted the old officer over the dull hissing of the ion jets. Soon, the ship was speeding away to sea. The 'uncivilized' Diclonius was now less than fifty yards away.

"Stay where you are!" howled Yamada, brandishing the grenade launcher. "I've got several chances to turn you into a stain on the sand with this, and your projections might not be enough to stop it!"

The other one didn't comply. "Go ahead, try it," she said.

"Maybe I will! What's _your_ fucking problem with me anyway?"

"You exist!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, 'I exist'! Do you have a problem with your own species?"

"I'm done talking, and you're done living."

"Crazy bitch!" Yamada shot. The grenade lobbed through the air and exploded four meters off target, in the air, seemingly for no reason. When the smoke cleared, said target was crouched on the ground. She got up, seemingly unhurt, and continued to walk slowly toward her target.

"That was cute," she said. Yamada fired three grenades in rapid succession, but after the much larger plume of smoke cleared, the other was still unharmed. Yamada started skipping sideways in long, low vaults powered by her projections, her weapons bouncing around unsafely. She fired a grenade in mid air, but it too was deflected; there was only one left now. The enemy followed her in no hurry. Yamada ended up on the lowest step of a large flight of stairs leading up to the elevated mainland. Her enemy climbed slowly to the next higher step, and Yamada sprang to the top of the staircase, preserving the distance.

The third Diclonius was approaching rapidly; her signal was strong too, but irregular and strained. 'I can't fight two,' thought Yamada and sprang almost directly at her enemy, landing within five metres of her. She fired the last grenade before the enemy could react and shielded herself from the blast, then jumped straight in. The grenade flew unnaturally and exploded harmlessly far away on the beach, but Yamada used all her power to close the gap and slammed the grenade launcher into the other's face, sending her off the staircase's left edge. She followed up with a projection, but before it could tear a great hole in the enemy's chest the reply knocked the wind out of her in the form of an obscenely fast garbage can which sent her body back up the stairs, right at the incoming third Diclonius. She landed painfully on the top steps, ending up at the third's feet. The crumpled tumbled back down spilling out garbage and can came to rest in the railing. She was standing almost at once, and had the third by the heart.


	7. Hesitating

Toshiko's grasp on the third's heart was still unnoticed. "So whose side are you on? And stop snivelling, damn it!" she snapped.

"I... I promised Papa I would kill Lucy-san if she came out again. And you're right, I can feel down later."

Yamada released her. "That puts you on my side. Stay behind me. You alright?"

"I think I can use my vectors," said the third, still badly slumped. Yamada stole a look at her. She was wearing a nondescript nightgown, her hair was purple; she looked in pain and sick. They were of a height, or maybe Yamada was shorter. The enemy seemed very much alright except for a red and puffy cheek, but was waiting in the middle of the staircase.

"Fuck! Don't try any heroics; you're in really bad shape. How long can this Lucy reach?"

"I can reach almost to her from here, and she can do a little less than half... hey, who are you?"

That meant that Toshiko had a small range advantage. But 'Lucy's' projections were way more powerful. Not that it mattered, because both their bodies were way too fragile to resist a cutting attack. "Yamada Toshiko, Private E-Triple C, the FFP Army. You got a name?"

"Um, I'm Nana."

"Are you two done with the introductions?" snapped Lucy. "You're dead meat anyway."

"Everybody dies," said Toshiko, "though not as fast as you will!" Lucy said nothing, only grinned. Toshiko, crouched like a predator, inched closer. "You stay out of the way," she said to Nana. "You can't do much in your state! Just retreat if she gets too close. You might be served by running altogether. But if you're in range and she's not, and you find an opening, every chunk torn out of her is welcome." She extended a projection to about nine tenths of the limit of her range (which was 277 cm), straight at Lucy, who suspected as much from her demeanour and tried to beat it away blindly with her own, but it was like swatting stubborn smoke. Toshiko held it like an outstretched sword. When the time was right, she lunged forward and extended it fully, almost tearing Lucy's stomach open. The counter-attack was instant and furious, and Toshiko narrowly avoided being turned into ground meat. Lucy attacked again and again, with more and more projections, chasing the skipping and feinting soldier single-mindedly and throwing any debris she could get a hold of into her in a relentless barrage. After a number of seconds skipping close to the ground, Toshiko sprang into the air over Lucy, sending a deadly spike-projection directly at Lucy's face. A high voice screamed, "No! Stop it!" and Toshiko hesitated. Her enemy didn't, so she used the now missed attack to barely modify her flight path and avoid the inevitable attack. So instead of being torn in half, her inner left thigh was brutally gouged open. Screaming her pain, she fell next to Lucy, who turned her face up with a foot and stood over her face and smiled at her. Nana, still too far and too weak, watched in horror; right next to her was Mayu, who'd found a skirt. The stair was devastated, with sizeable chunks torn out of the steps and spread about chaotically.

Lucy was grinning; at least, her teeth were barred. "Still going to tear me apart?"

"Seriously, don't talk. It's nauseating!" A two meter geyser of blood shot out of her leg, and it took everything she could muster to keep the next ones down; she couldn't spare any power for shredding Lucy. Then she banged her head on the stone repeatedly: "Nice work, _Private_, nice fucking work! Way to hesitate!" Lucy's head turned to the left. Mayu was pleading something to her; Toshiko saw her enemy's body tense almost imperceptibly as the projections surged out. She grabbed her rifle and shot a volley straight into Lucy, who disappeared, kicking up concrete debris; the damaged trash can flew through where her head had been.

"Did I get her?" The blood was squirting out of her wound at short intervals, and she only managed to control it somewhat with a weak projection, preventing the long blood jets. Still, Mayu ran to her. "Did I get her?" Toshiko asked again, more insistent this time. Mayu shook her head, crying.

"Why do you have to kill everybody? Why did you kill Mr. Bandou?"

"Self defence," said Toshiko. "He took one fucking look at me and decided to put a bullet in my face, and I didn't do anything. That's your saviour, and I made him cold, so there! As for everybody, if that pisshead was everybody for you, you are a sad little human." Toshiko's grip on her wound faltered, and another great jet of blood came out. "Hell, I'm running out of blood AAAH!" She screamed because her wound had been squeezed with great force. Nana had come around enough to stop her bleeding.

"You took that poor girl in the backpack with you," she said. "What did you do with her? She was so unhappy, so cruelly treated..." 'Great, more fucking sobbing!' "Did you bury her where she will have a good view?"

"Even better, I saved her. I took her to my people; they'll rebuild her body. She's safe... if she'll live. Are you lot obsessed with death or something?"

Nana's grip on the gaping wound tightened, making Toshiko gasp. Shock and the beginnings of rage were on her face, and her eyes were beginning to look like Lucy's. "You took her back... to the Institute?"

"No! What the fuck's gotten into you? What institute?"

"You don't know about it? But all of us are there, at least, almost... You know, the island off this shore; it's far out to sea, so Papa said..."

"Well your dad's wrong! My people are not taking her to an island. That's all I'm saying, and you can let go of my leg now. I think I can at least hold what's left of my circulatory system inside."

Hesitantly, Nana withdrew. The blood didn't spurt out like before, though a bit seeped down Toshiko's leg.


	8. First Night On Earth

"It's almost night. We have to hide; your police will be here any minute." Toshiko pushed herself up with a projection, but the game leg couldn't support a lot of weight. "My coat," she remembered, and started hobbling back to it, but she barely took a few steps when Mayu stormed past her and solicitously brought back the greatcoat. Its inside pockets were packed to overflowing with clips of ammunition and other effects. Toshiko took the garment, put it on, and gave an awkward "thanks". Its weight automatically slumped her shoulders.

Mayu only bowed her head, sobbed silently, and made to shuffle away, but Toshiko grabbed her shoulder gently. "Look... I'm sorry it was your boy I killed back there." She nodded to the beach, and smiled at Mayu, though between the pain, exhaustion and anger at losing it was more of a grimace. "I... imagine I owe you a big one, so feel free to ask, and I'll see what I can do. If you counted on him feel free to count on me. After all, he came at me, and I won."

"No... it's..." She looked into Toshiko's eyes, grabbed her by the collar and screamed: "Is it true? Did Mr. Bandou attack you?" The soldier, who figured she'd been soothing more than enough, returned to her usual stony face.

"Yes. I injured him fatally while he was shooting at me. How old are you?"

Mayu stooped low again, rubbing her tear-filled eyes. "Fourteen..."

"Well, believe it or not, I'm twelve in Earth – I mean I'm twelve years old. I've aged twice as fast and I'm physically an adult, but you still have two years on me. Now stop crying like a little baby!" Still, she followed it with a half-smile. "Remember, anything. Now let's get the hell out of here, I think I hear sirens. Nana, how are you feeling?"

"I'm... a little better..."

"Like hell you are. Close your eyes, and allow me." They obeyed and she held both of them firmly with projections, ran into the nearby small forest, using more projections to power her wounded leg, jumped with them over the restrictive tall fence (Mayu squealed) and landed them softly. They gaped around and at her, confused. "Where can we hide?" Mayu could see the terrace where she'd slept before and pointed it out. "Very good," said Toshiko, and they went in. "So nobody ever comes here?"

"Not when it's cold at night, like now..."

Toshiko sat in the corner right before the others took their places on either side, fished out a sealed, matt silver plastic bag and put it on the bench next to her. "You two go to sleep; I will keep watch." The two girls settled on the benches, using their hands for pillows and curled like foetuses. Toshiko watched in silence as they fell asleep tortuously, suffering in the chill. Their clothes were for indoors and thin. After an hour, Toshiko finally shook her head, took off the overcoat, emptied it of magazines (the ones for the assault rifle were duct-taped in twos) and other effects, draped it over Mayu, and the jacket, which she used to cover up Nana, leaving her down to a thin, dark red silk T-shirt drenched in sweat.

Then she cut the leather trouser leg to get a clear view of the wound. It was a great H-shaped tear with a lot of muscle missing; the leg would not be up to 100% for at least a couple of months; without tissue re-growth, never. She tore open the bag while spreading the wound apart slowly with her projections. The pain was almost unbearable but she was damned if Yamada Toshiko, Private ECCC, would make an arse of herself due to mere pain. She tore open the bag and poured the dust inside straight into the wound. It was a 'protein plug' laced with a strong antibiotic. In contact with blood, it expanded into dark orange-red rubber-like putty which bonded with flesh and skin, and plugged the whole wound, preventing bleeding and infection but also healing. So it did, fizzing and augmenting the pain with a burning sensation. Toshiko let go of her ragged flesh and settled it into an approximation of its correct position. She used a projection to scoop off the excess when it stopped expanding, retrieved the assault rifle and slung its cord over her neck. She could see the entrance's dark-in-dark clearly. Anybody who entered during the night would get a bullet in the face. Nobody entered. The nightly chill made her wet shirt into freezing merry hell; her head hurt, the poison from the spiked ball hadn't totally subsided, her leg throbbed, her pride stung. Near dawn, her discipline failed, and she fell asleep.


	9. Manners

A squeal woke her up. She was instantly on her feet, the rifle pointing at the terrace's exit. Mayu was shocked by something; when Toshiko turned to Nana she could see what. The girl was holding one of her arms in the other. It was a prosthetic, and had detached above the elbow. She sat down with them and snatched it: "Let me see that!" After a very brief examination, she threw it back: "Weak! Whoever gave you this obviously doesn't give two shits about you; it's not even robotic, never mind a proper, re-grown arm. You must need to project to even use this!"

Nana, who had re-attached her arm, shouted in outrage: "Papa gave me this!"

Toshiko waved her hand. "Ah, lighten up! Ever heard such a thing as humour? What were you guys talking about, if I'm not prying?"

"I... I was explaining how Nyuu-san had killed a lot of people and removed my arms and legs. But... I don't think she even remembers doing it – not when she's Nyuu-san. You only know her as Lucy-san, she's the person you fought yesterday... but still, I wonder how many people she has deprived of their lives by now... but I can't let her murders pile up. Papa said to stay away from her, but I can't do that. The next time I see Nyuu-san, I'll _kill_ her."

"Did you hear that?" Toshiko aimed her gun at a sound, but there was nobody there. "Never mind... just a small animal. Now, listen to me, Zero-seven." Nana cringed. "You need to stop the bullshit about killing people. You aren't going to kill anyone; not for a lack of power, you've enough of that, but you're too soft. I, on the other hand... wait, what's this Nyuu business? Does she have a split personality?"

"Yes, I guess... Nyuu-san is gentle and harmless, but..."

"Well, that'll make my life easier if I find her in the right state. By the way, if you mind me calling you Zero-Seven, say so. It's jargon; I'm a soldier, if the hardware didn't tip you off."

Nana fidgeted her hands. "Please don't, it reminds me of bad things."

"Fair enough... Nana." Toshiko fished up her backpack. "We need to eat something, shelter and clothes. Proper clothes, you two look terrible. I don't suppose any of you have any means, so as long as I'm here, those are on me."

"Wait, I still have some money," said Nana, "and I'm learning how to use it!" She'd taken her last diminished stack of notes and brandished it. "It's not that much, but..."

"Well, Mayu will have to do the shopping. She's the only one without horns and I can't even read your chicken scratch, only good old Roman letters. Put that small change away, Nana. Listen, I need something to wear." The two girls began taking off her jacket and overcoat, but she stopped them. "Keep them until you can replace them, and throw them away when you do. Damaged clothes attract attention. I'll need to replace all my clothing except socks and boots. Also a bar of soap, some water if you can find it and a large bag to hide this stuff..." She waved at the magazines on the floor. "Do more trips if you need to."

"Sure! You can count on me, Toshiko-san!" She made to rush out, but Toshiko stopped her.

"You forgot a few things. First, take these." She handed her a stack of notes, and Mayu pocketed them with wide eyes. "Your family decided to start trusting you with big money, if anyone asks." Mayu nodded, smiling eagerly. "Second, you seem to have a thing for miniskirts; disgusting at your age. Not to mention mine and I have a huge orange H on my thigh that people don't need to see. Not to mention I hate them." 'Way to go, you fucking hypocrite,' Toshiko chided herself. 'You weren't a child with that navigator, eh?' But the memory drew a wisp of a smile. Mayu nodded again, with less enthusiasm and a lot less of a smile. "Third, I may have been born here but I don't think of myself as Japanese. I'm a foreigner, to say the _least_. Don't use that obnoxious 'san' behind by name. I hate that too, along with the whole fucking language." She patted her on the shoulder, and Mayu left looking crestfallen.

Nana was scowling at her, her arms crossed. She didn't say anything, so Toshiko ignored her and sat back down tiredly. "I still need sleep," she said weakly. "I'm a dumbass anyway; I've known that girl less than a day and I hand her money."

Nana jumped at this and stood in front of Toshiko, her tiny artificial fists clenched. "Mayu-san is a good person, not like you! I won't allow you to talk down to her, with your bad manners and rude words! I don't care if you gave us money; if you don't apologize to her when she comes back you can leave!" And she pointed at the exit.

"Alright, settle down before you accidentally tear me in half. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll bloody apologize, but your ea- I mean your _Japanese_ manners are a cursed nuisance, and you're too valuable to abandon, so you're stuck with me. Now... if you don't mind my asking, where is everybody?'

"What do you mean?"

"The other Diclonii. I've only seen you and that Lucy bitch. And the rest of our people?" The next second she had to quell the urge to shout at Nana and slap her around; she'd begun to shed copious tears again.

But then Nana started to tell her about the Institute, how all Diclonii were brought there and most were killed, with a few taken at random kept alive and experimented on and tortured. Her language was simple, and Toshiko's Japanese not the best, but the enormity of what Nana said blotted away everything else. Toshiko listened in silence, and her rather tanned face turned corpse-white, and contorted into such a grimace of rage that Nana stepped back from her and failed to finish the story about Papa setting her free and the death of his real daughter, Mariko.

Fists clenched, Toshiko started muttering oaths, then stood stiffly up; her game leg almost gave way so she turned around, muttering louder, and struck the bench, first with one fist, then the other, punching little holes in it. Nana screamed. Toshiko fell into a sit on the ground, breathing heavy and gaping at her bloody hands.

Slowly, Nana approached her and touched her shoulder tentatively. "Toshiko-san..." No answer. She picked a sullen but unresisting Toshiko bodily up and sat her back on the bench. "It's bad to sit on the cold earth..."

"I can see why this Lucy is a serial killer with a split personality," the soldier finally muttered. Her expression, if possible, darkened further: "They'll get their due and proper soon enough, don't you worry." 'When Southouse finds out about this...' And she told Mayu about her colleagues, the post-humans. Genetically engineered soldiers, much stronger than ordinary people and extremely tough; mostly bullet proof, and to an extent even projection proof, even a small number of them would cut a bloody swathe through large units of Earth-soldiers, and it really took Diclonii to match them in power, for although they were as fragile as normal humans, or almost, they could devastate everything within reach of their projections in a second, where a PH might need a minute. "Oh, and if you have to fight one of them, here's a tip: never go for the eyes. Believe it or not, they're the toughest part. Anything that can chip them is probably enough to kill a PH outright, so leave the eyes alone. If some of them pay this Institute of yours a visit, they'll wipe it off the face of the planet."

It seemed that even Nana's horns had drooped, but they were bone. "But then they will kill Papa too, won't they?"

Toshiko coughed. "Well, they'll not if he runs away. Quickly. Now, I shouldn't even have told you this, so try to keep it to yourself. Short of warning your dad to get the hell out of there, nobody needs to know, not even Mayu, alright?"

"Right."

"Good."

"But, Toshiko-san..."

Toshiko let out an exasperated sigh. "There you go, bastardizing my name again. What?"

"You said I was too valuable to abandon... that's not true, is it? Even Papa sent me away because the Director ordered him to kill me, I can't go back to Kaede House because I'll get Kouta and the others into trouble... and – and I would be all alone but for Mayu-chan..."

Toshiko ran a hand over her face. "Will you quit your bitching this year? When you told me about Lucy's range, you indicated that yours is about five metres. That's a hell of a range, and I'll bet you anything it would get a lot better with training and time. You probably hit like a train, too, and with that Mariko kid you told me about dead, you might just be the single most powerful member of the Homo genus."

"The what?"

"Goddamn it! I mean – you're the strongest... person alive."

"I – but I –"

"If you want to do something with your life, I can get you in touch with the right people to help you out, and after the Institute you'd probably love to work with anybody, let alone them." Toshiko wrapped her arm around Nana's shoulders, pulled her close and gave her a big and rather wolfish grin: "That's actually why I'm here!"

"Really?" Nana sprang up, her projection-driven movement sweeping Toshiko's arm aside. She grabbed the soldier's hand with both of hers. "Papa will be proud of Nana for sure! Can he come too? What about Mayu-chan?"

Toshiko snatched her hand away. "None of this means we can hold hands like that! Anyway, I don't know about Mayu and your dad. I'd have to talk to my boss." In fact, Mayu's admittance could be secured easily if she could learn a trade or an art, and Kurama, Nana's 'Papa,' was not only out of the question, but even the gentle Southouse might concede to have him killed if he showed up. Toshiko knew better than to confess to Nana, insanely in love with the man, that he would certainly suffer a very unfortunate, very quick fatal accident.

Nana's exuberance disappeared as suddenly as it had surfaced. "I just want to live with Papa, and be useful to him," she said. "If he can't come, I'm not coming either."

"Have it your way; we'll talk to him," said Toshiko flatly, but inwardly she was warmed and amused by the poetic justice of the Stockholm syndrome-afflicted Nana sealing the deal on her precious Papa's death sentence. The FFP wanted her, and the one man who stood in the way was accessory to mass murder and guilty of a myriad lesser but still horrific crimes, so he would be sought out and destroyed. They waited for Mayu in silence.


	10. Necessaries

"Here I am!" A heavily laden and beaming Mayu rushed into the terrace. She put the two great bags she'd been carrying down and rummaged in one of them to take out three smaller bags, one for each of them, each containing two large rice cakes.

"Thank you, Mayu-chan! I humbly accept this meal!" said Nana excitedly and took a bite out of the first cake, just as Mayu was starting on her own, and they began chewing quickly, by their standards. Toshiko, after shrugging at the cakes, wolfed them down inside ten seconds, almost without chewing, and casually wiped the rice off her face. Mayu and Nana stopped eating and gaped at her.

"Oh, Mayu, about the way I've been treating you... I was way out of line, I apologize."

Still in shock at Toshiko's eating habits, Mayu only managed a weak "It's alright..."

"Now, where are my necessaries? If I stay in this wet thing any longer, it'll kill me." Mayu nudged one of the bags with her foot. Toshiko stood up, snatched it and kissed Mayu on the top of her head: "Thanks a million, you're a life saver! I'll be around!"

After finding an isolated and hidden spot within the largely deserted park, she stripped, washed herself with the mineral water Mayu had brought and used projections to dry herself as well as she could. Then she clothed herself with the new clothes, making faces at the frilly pink panties, bra and blouse, and the wool cap with its goofy tassels on the top and at the ends of its dubious braided chin straps. The pastel-chequered knee-long skirt and jacket weren't much better; her calves were exposed and she looked ruefully at her discarded army boots which would hardly fit; a pair of fragile white socks that covered half her calves and light shoes with 6 cm heels had to do. There was more underwear in the bag.

Toshiko looked herself up and down. "Well, it's a good disguise, but..." She looked around to see if anybody was in earshot, and shouted in English: "Fuck! This is not me at all, Mayu! Goddamn it!" And instantly felt better, then hid her rifle under the coat and put on her old belt, which only fit at all because it had a simple and rounded buckle, and the knife and gun were only just hidden under the coat.

By the time she got back at the terrace, Nana and Mayu had finished their own meal and put on their new shoes, and coats, which were different in actual colours, but more of the same as Toshiko now had on. They were more than a little excited.

She strode in, snatching all the magazines on the terrace's concrete floor with projections and collecting them in the bag. Before they could get on about how she looked, she straightened: "Hey, what are we still doing in this little dump? We can get a hotel room, you know. Hell, we can get three!" She regretted saying it at once, because Nana and Mayu were both staring at the ground, suddenly silent. Toshiko stared from one to the other. "What?"

Mayu produced the stack of Yens, which was noticeably smaller but not by much. "We can't impose on you, Toshiko-san... Nana-san's money can cover our shoes, coats and food, but we mustn't go around spending yours."

"Keep the paper, I haven't any use for it," said Toshiko, and brandished her rifle. "If I need anything, this can get it for me, and I won't be here long enough to spend all that cash anyway."

"You're leaving?"

"Eventually. Came out of the blue, didn't I?" Toshiko pointed at the sky, which was grey and ominous. "Like I said, I'm a soldier; I'll have to return to my unit soon, and I won't need any money there. Don't worry, I am not with the Police, not to mention that fucking Institute where Nana was held. You do not want to be there if I ever get my projections on them!"

Nana took a shy step forward. "What's... projections? You said that before, too."

"What? You know... the things, the invisible hands that we Diclonii produce?"

"You mean vectors?"

"Yeah, those. If I ever get my... vectors on these Institute people, well, I don't think you girls want to hear any of that. Now shall we get out of here? I don't care about the chill, but even with coats, if you girls sleep out here a few more days, you'll get very sick. Even you, Nana; I can tell you that being a Diclonius doesn't get you a free pass from these things."

"No, I'm sorry, I can't," said Nana. "Wherever I go, I get people in trouble. At least here, with Mayu-chan, nothing bad has happened yet." Mayu stepped forward with the money.

Toshiko shooed her: "You hold on to that for a while, you're the only one here who knows how to use it." Sighing, she got in and sat down. "Well, I can't leave you two out here by yourselves; you'll get killed, or worse. Mayu, since you're feeling so honourable about money, you can go get us lunch." She smiled. "Again, thanks. That paper is nothing to me, but your help is brilliant."

Mayu nodded solicitously and took off, and the soldier watched her leave at a trot. "I told you Mayu-chan is good," said Nana, "she's my best friend after Papa!"

Toshiko shook her head. "I don't want to talk about him," she grumbled, hiding her distaste rather less than she'd intended.

Nana's smile disappeared. "Why? What's wrong with Papa?"

"I could do with some more sleep," said Toshiko, and closed her eyes, but Nana nudged her persistently. She was frowning.

"Hey, what's wrong with Papa?"

Toshiko quelled an urge to launch herself into a tirade against Kurama. Her eyes stayed closed. "Never mind, I'm just tired, that's all."

"I wouldn't have been here if Papa hadn't saved me, you know," said Nana petulantly, but she had nothing on the stubbornness of an arrogant ECCC soldier. After having offered one last explanation, Toshiko was determined to stay, or at least look, asleep, and Nana would've had to shove her off the bench to rouse her. But she was worried. 'How can we free this poor stupid girl from her Stockholm syndrome? Set that bastard up with some egregious crime?'


	11. Home

That evening, the first snow of the year fell; it was also the first snow Nana had ever seen and she was not above screaming her delight at it. Toshiko, who was pleasantly drifting between waking and sleep, gave a start. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Look! Look! The snow! It's so pretty!"

The soldier slapped her own face.

Mayu was wearing a dejected expression again. "Um, Nana-chan... We should go home..."

Toshiko looked daggers at her. "Excuse me?"

Mayu ignored her. "I really want to have sukiyaki..."

Nana turned on her with mad eyes. "Sukiyaki? Yuka-san is making sukiyaki today?" She practically screamed it.

"Yeah, she said so on the phone when I went to get lunch."

Nana looked blankly outside, and then shook her head. "Never mind! I don't really crave any sukiyaki!"

Before Mayu could answer, Toshiko forcefully turned her around and said ominously: "When you say 'home'..."

"You know, Kaede House, where you... saved us..."

"After I offered you a hotel room? Luxury? You can see how I might take offense here?"

"But – but a hotel room costs lots of money, and you're all alone in there, it's much more pleasant at Kaede House... You could come too, I'm sure Kouta-san and Yuka-san could..."

"Give me a break," snapped Toshiko, and walked out of the terrace. She started to circle around it, grinding her teeth, and finally leaned on a tree, trying to ignore Nana's excited screams and Mayu's pleadings. Satisfied that they weren't paying attention to her, she fished for her phone, and was about to try to get the Herod when a violent whack shook the tree.

Nana had slammed Lucy, who was somehow undetectable by the Diclonius reciprocal perception, into it, and screamed, "This is for Mariko-chan, and for trying to..."

"Stop it, Nana-san!" screamed Mayu, but Nana wasn't paying attention. Toshiko's pistol was aimed at Lucy's ear.

"Stand down, you fucking idiot!" she yelled, and her much more forceful voice silenced the two girls, but Nana still grasped Lucy's throat with two five-meter-long vectors.

Lucy spoke in a choked voice: "I'm so sorry for everything... please... don't do this..."

"Bullshit; I'll turn your head into a huge flower," snapped Yoshiko, then spoke in what passed with her as a soothing voice: "Nana, sorry for swearing at you, but I needed to stop you before you did something that will follow you all your life. You don't have the substance of a killer. Now turn around while I put a bullet in this bitch's head."

Nana's lips twitched repeatedly. "B-but... why would she even come here except..."

"Give it a rest, will you? The hostile is ready for termination; that's good enough!" bellowed Toshiko over her. Nana invisibly let go of Lucy and closed her eyes, evidently too busy wrestling with herself. So Toshiko turned her attention to Mayu: "Turn around."

"No... Please don't..."

"Turn around!"

"No! Leave Nyuu-san alone!"

"Who the hell is that?" Mayu ran at Lucy, who was now looking, in tears, up the gun's barrel, and hugged Lucy, protecting her. Toshiko let her arms drop at once, staring at her.

"Am I really... a serial killer?"

"No," sobbed Nana, "you're not."

Lucy, or Nyuu, jumped up, suddenly overjoyed, lifting Mayu off the ground for a second. "Really? I'm not? But – but you said I was!"

"I was wrong," whispered Nana. "I'm so sorry, Nyuu-san..."

Toshiko was staring at the scene in disbelief, but finally remembered that this must be Lucy's benign split, called Nyuu. A small dog's bark snatched her back into her usual routine; she took cover behind the tree and pointed the gun that way. But the man who came running behind the dog was just the boy she'd knocked out cold yesterday, so she dropped it down again.

"Whew! There you are! Thought I'd lost you guys for good this time," he said, panting heavily and propping himself with hands on knees. "Come on, let's get back home." Mayu greeted the little dog ecstatically, calling him 'Wanta' and clutching him at her chest.

"No, I can't come," said Nana.

The young man was aghast. "What the – why not?"

Toshiko stepped up, and he straightened, alarmed, at the sight of her. In her no-nonsense soldier's voice, she said: "What she's talking about is Diclonii sensing each other. As long as this Institute place where she escaped from wants her dead, she's a liability. Apparently they were good enough to hold that Mariko girl against her will, never mind someone like Nana." She showcased the pistol, which, while average, looked enormous in her tiny hand. "D'you even know how to use one of these?"

"No, but I don't care... Nana-san is like family to me, and I can't bear to lose her like this, without even an explanation." He turned to her. "Nana-chan, you'll catch your death of cold out here, you've got to come back home."

"But... they'll look for me... are you sure?"

"As sure as it gets, silly!"

"That's all very cute, but Nana is very important!" snapped Toshiko, snatching off her hat. "With all due respect, mister..."

"Kouta."

"Right. Not that any respect is due. My whole purpose for being here is to find people like Nana, protect them and discuss classified things with them. If that idiot from yesterday could find your house, maybe someone with an actual brain can, too! I don't know whether he had any backup, and I'll assume he did. If so, I absolutely did not get them, and Nana didn't either. Did you?" She turned to Nyuu. "Did you?"

She only stared blankly back.

Nana answered first: "Toshiko-san, don't you see? I'm easy to find wherever I go... all they have to do is force another Diclonius to find me. And the same goes for you. Kouta-san, if I come back home, we might as well take Toshiko-san in too. Maybe they'll leave us alone if there are more of us, and she can help protect us. She can be rude sometimes, but she's really nice underneath."

Kouta looked at Toshiko's sullen face. "I'm not sure she wants to come!"

The soldier shrugged. "I don't, but that's Nana's choice, at least for now. That place of yours is pretty big. You don't look rich, so what's the deal?"

"It's a traditional Japanese restaurant that went out of business," said Yuka helpfully. "My mother lets Kouta stay there if he keeps up the maintenance, and we've gathered a little family of sorts there."

"You didn't have to be so candid about this," muttered Kouta in her ear.

"Nonsense! She looks like someone who can keep an eye on you while I'm busy," she answered, and Kouta's ears reddened. Toshiko looked at Nana, who was still in tears.

"Let's go home," said Mayu very quietly, and Nana nodded abjectly.

So they all started toward Kaede House, while Toshiko whipped out her pistol and demonstrated its use, and the tiny dent in its butt his head had supposedly made, to a very uncomfortable Kouta.


	12. Guard Relaxed

Toshiko was sitting in her room. After being introduced to a very shy girl called Nozomi, she'd insisted on adjourning to an empty room at once, dinner be damned, pretending fatigue – in reality, to be alone so she could report to the Herod.

"Come in, Wolf Den, this is Kiche speaking."

A deep female voice answered: "Go ahead, Kiche."

"Who is this?"

"It's four tomatoes," said the voice flippantly, meaning the fourth officer rank from the bottom – captain. Unlike Earth armies, the FFP had three lieutenant ranks. "Let's hear it."

"Second cub is safe for the moment. She's soft, innocent, and good-natured, though she's suffering Stockholm syndrome a really bad apple. The real problem is the other cubs. There's an island facility off the shore where I arrived where they're being killed en masse, except a few who are tortured! That's where Soft Cub's surrogate dad, or whatever he is, works, believe it or not. Exact location unknown. Wolf Den, we need to get those cubs out of there..." She trailed off.

"You still awake, Kiche?"

"Yes! Sorry. We also have another possible cub on the loose, but sometimes she's rabid and other times she's not a cub at all."

"What's your status, Kiche?"

"I'm a little dented, but I'll be fine. Thanks for asking. Instructions?"

"Safeguard the soft cub at all costs. Keep your head down. If you can, keep the other one around so we can talk to her. We will look into this island, and contact you soon."

"Understood."

"Your sister's improving and sends her regards. Confirmed that she is your biological sister by both parents." Toshiko's heart missed a beat. The phone went silent, and Yamada Toshiko sat on the makeshift bed, really more of a sleeping bag, and for the first time since she could remember, wept. Not much later there was a loud crashing sound.

Toshiko jumped, her heart missing another beat. "What the hell are these nut-jobs doing now?" she hissed to herself. But there was also the noise of many boots, and a few gasps and screams. Toshiko went for her own guns and quietly jogged into the hallway, to peak into the dining room. A large mass of black-kitted soldiers were occupying the room; there were two effeminate blonde men standing among them, one being fawned over by three girls in black spandex with weird, face-concealing helmets. "Cynthia," he said affably, "Restrain Lucy." One of the three girls stiffened and gave a curt "Nyu." The real Nyuu ('or Lucy, if even that is her real name') was suddenly shoved off the ground and slammed against a support beam, two meters from the ground and at least five from the girl, flailing like a hanging victim.

'A Diclonius I can't sense? What the fuck? And she's stronger than Nana, too!'

A scuffle ensued; Kouta, screaming, went for the affable man with the girls, but the other one shoved an elbow in his head and held him down, chiding him about causing trouble. Yuka was screaming. Nozomi was on the ground, a soldier treading on her head. 'How do I win this?' Nana stood up silently, and Toshiko was shocked by the way her normally subdued and benign presence swelled into a barely contained storm of rage and power. Evidently, the man with the girls was not impressed.

"You're Number 7, right? Such a useless slipelit. You can't even kill anything, can you?' Still, we have orders to terminate you so at least we'll get your spine's marrow. All's well that ends well." He put his hands fondly on the helmets of the two as-yet-unnamed masked girls. "Barbara." "Myu." "Alicia." "Myu." "Give her a lot of pain."

Nana lunged, and Toshiko half-emerged and opened fire. Immediately, Nana was shoved back into the wall with great force; Toshiko's shots bounced off thin air, but so did the shots aimed at her. "Hold your fire, men! You seize that one, Alicia."

"Up yours!" challenged Toshiko and made to retreat through the corridor, but a number of vectors hit her side like hammers and dragged her into the room, disintegrating her weapons one by one. Toshiko gasped and spat blood. 'Closer, you little twat, closer.' But when the dragging stopped, only a few unimportant soldiers were in her range.

"Look at these idiots," said the man in his calm and pleasant voice. Mayu, who was right next to Toshiko, tried to scream at Nana, but Toshiko used a vector to restrain her and hissed:

"Shut up, you'll make things worse!"

"There's no way you two weaklings can win against my perfect creations," said the man.

Nana stood up and screamed: "That didn't hurt at -" but she stopped, and began to wail at the top of her lungs. Toshiko immediately understood why. The sudden agony made her cough blood again; her body arched a little in spite of the vectors restraining her.

He explained something about shoulder nerves which made no sense to Toshiko in spite of her obligatory anatomy knowledge and laughed. "Now that is _pain_, is it not?" A pause. "You are not screaming. Don't tell me it doesn't hurt you." This was aimed at Toshiko.

She strained to smile. "Hurts like hell. If that little whore did this to you, fairy that you are, you'd be shitting yourself!" Her voice was choked at first, but got a little better.

He shook a finger at her. "That smart mouth just won't do, you know. Are you even a real Diclonius? Alicia, rip off one of her horns and hand it to me." Next to the shoulder nerve pain it was nothing, but the vector which had restrained Mayu, and which was now kept secretly and harmlessly in the necks of the nearest two soldiers, disappeared, and it seemed to her that the world abruptly stopped making any sense at all and she couldn't think straight. Her mind was a haze. The man received the horn in an opened hand and examined it. "So you are, he-he! Collect them both." Effortlessly, the two girls held Toshiko and Mayu, sans her prostheses, to either side of the man. "We'll get two nice, fresh spinal marrows out of this. Restrain the normal humans." In spite of their jostling and protests, everybody was subdued quickly and brutally by the soldiers. Toshiko, who was regaining control of her mind but still couldn't project, subtly checked if she could move her arms. It worked, but vectors tugged on her wrists savagely at once. She thought of fish out of water.

Wanta, the small dog, appeared suddenly and bit a soldier on the arm. He'd been restraining Kouta, who stole his sidearm, stood, cocked it and pointed it at the girls' handler. He wrestled him to the ground: "Everybody back off now!"

Still, the man was unfazed. "Oh, I'm supposed to be scared now and release everybody? Maybe you'll murder me and see how all these policemen react to it, but I think you will not. You don't look ready to kill me."

"Blow his brains out, we're dead anyway," said Toshiko. Her captor shuffled, mewed angrily and gave her a stiff vector-bunch in the kidney. "Kiss my ass, bitch," said Toshiko flatly.

Kouta adjusted his aim slightly. "How about I just shoot your jaw off instead?" His hostage actually gasped. "Let everybody go!" A shot cracked and Kouta slumped down weakly, losing blood. The other effeminate man had shot him through the chest, but Toshiko knew instantly the wound was not fatal. She didn't have time to be irked about that, because Lucy, or Nyuu, whichever it was, gave a blood-curdling shriek; the girl restraining her, Cynthia, was torn in two at the waist, and about half of the soldiers exploded like rotten tomatoes not a second later. Her horns were suddenly twice as long as before.

The leader was not smug now. "Not good, not good... Retreat!" he screamed, and everybody left of his party rushed back through the gaping hole in the shoji wall they'd torn coming in. The man who'd shot Kouta snatched Cynthia's still living upper half.

Toshiko fell, but was instantly up again. She snatched a submachine gun and started gunning soldiers down. When she saw Lucy stooping over Kouta, she roared, "After them! He can wait! After them!" After ten rounds and eight felled policemen, the SMG jammed.

Lucy hadn't moved. Kouta was squeezing one of her arms, pulling faces and speaking in a very weak voice, until he collapsed. Toshiko fell on her knees over Nana, who was lying in a puddle of blood, mostly her own. "Goddamn it, don't you die on me!" She looked from her to the outside, where the enemy was still in full retreat.

When Yuka finally tried to run to Kouta and tripped on her, Toshiko sprang up and snatched her by the collar. "Get an ambulance, or whatever the hell it's called! The guy who shot him missed the heart on purpose." But the girl froze. "Is today too fucking SOON?" When she flung Yuka away, Lucy was standing just outside, with her back at them. She'd been speaking.

"...keep Kouta alive," she said. "I'll protect you guys from now on." And she walked into the park. Toshiko got hold of a glass of water and used it to gently wash Nana's face. Outside, there were two explosions, then a crash. Toshiko tried to use a vector to help out her wounded, and throbbing, leg, but it didn't come out. Outside, shots were fired and Lucy cackled.

"Fuck your protection, eh?" muttered Toshiko at Lucy's barely visible back and picked Nana up, hobbling away with her. Mayu, still on the ground, looked up.

"Hey, what are you doing to Nana? Where are you taking her?"

Toshiko didn't even turn: "Saving her life! She'll be back in a few days!"


	13. Herod

Hopping on one leg wouldn't do a body with internal bleeding any good, so Toshiko willed her game leg to be at least marginally useful. Once in her room, she snatched her closed-circuit phone and activated it: "Come in, Wolf Den! Kiche here!"

After a few seconds, the same voice as before answered: "This is Wolf Den. What's up?"

"Is this connection secure, ma'am?"

"Yeah. What's wrong?" The informal tone was quite surprising from an army captain.

"I need emergency evacuation for myself and the gentle cub! I'm unable to project, she's unconscious, and my weapons are destroyed! It's very likely that we're both bleeding inside."

"Shit! Well, I'm looking at your position now. You need to get to an isolated spot; we can't have people seeing the... vehicle. There's a forest just north of your position."

"Oh, negative! Most of the hostiles are there."

"South-west then. There's another forested park there! We'll get there in an hour or so."

"Thanks, ma'am. I'll be there."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll talk more planet-side. Just keep her alive, and yourself. Now, if you're haemorrhaging inside, let's not waste time here. Keep the line open."

"Yes, ma'am."

An annoyed snort followed this as Toshiko put the phone in Nana's lap and hobbled out of Kaede House, crossed the street and was lost among the trees just as an ambulance, a fire engine and a dozen police cars rushed in. Hearing them, Toshiko hobbled away even faster until she was out of earshot, and leaned on a tree, holding Nana, wrapped in the slightly damaged jacket, like a baby and pleading with her to not die, goddamn it.

An hour later, she was numb and increasingly sure that Nana was beyond help, but the great wind and hissing of the ion engines as they turned off gave her new strength. The trees' crowns got squished flat by an almost invisible solid shape with a big belly, now kept in the air by propellers. A ramp opened just in front of Toshiko, but it did not touch the ground. A single, small figure made its way to the very bottom – one of the Diclonius medical students, crawling on all fours, the propellers' currents swishing around her long, violently pink hair, and her robe. "Toshiko! Just relax, I'll pick you up!" she yelled over the noise.

Toshiko squinted into the light: "Sazuko, is that you? Only you would say that! I relaxed for ten minutes and this shit happened! Don't tell me to relax!"

Sazuko's vectors gently picked Toshiko up and they receded into the ship. After the propellers had pushed the craft high enough, and the two wounded were secure against the acceleration, the two ion engines took over and wrestled free of Earth's gravity, carrying the ship up to its maximum safe speed of Mach 40.

At Kaede House, they heard a loud snap and a single, sudden gush of wind. They looked that way, and the younger officers, whose eyes were better, thought they could see two faint blue lights moving up and getting smaller, but as their older superiors looked away unconcerned, each one thought he'd be the subject of ridicule and kept it to himself. There was enough of a mess there, what with the blood, the fire and the attacked kids.

As the ship soared toward the moon, Sazuko had attached a massive monitor's cable to Nana's pod and peered into the colourful display which showed every detail of her patient's truncated and battered organism in larger-than-life bright colours. She puffed loudly.

"She's a mess! That's at least twenty years of damage in her jaw."

Toshiko's muffled voice came from her own secured pod: "Tell me about it! They tortured her in a... institute for the whole of her life! Sons of bitches!" Three dull thuds.

"That's an ugly lot she's had, yes. Now stop trying to break out of your cocoon, you're not a butterfly yet." Sazuko was the oldest Diclonius in the FFP at a whopping 14 years minus one month old, barely topping the two already-graduated soldiers, but her body and her mind were those of an adult, the latter helped along by a very rapid education (including all the requisite hard work) and an early exposure to the full world of military and civil medicine. "I'll give you something to sleep, OK?"

"Yeah, do that; I could use some sack time."

Sazuko's vector flicked over the screen, touching several buttons on it, with her others providing her a comfortable and relatively stiff four point grip of the hull. The anaesthetic coursed into her patients' veins. "Sweet dreams!"

When the ship was far enough from the Earth, the pilot activated the ship's third and most powerful engine, the space pinch, which instantly relocated the ship all the way to the moon's proximity, more than a light second away, without even disrupting the ion jets. It only worked in zero gravity, and jumping more than about two light seconds at a time made it imprecise and was a good way of landing in the path of an object large, hard and fast enough to damage the ship, or worse, inside something that the space disruption wouldn't tear apart.

The ion jets now reversed to act as the only brakes available in vacuum, as the ship hurtled through vacuum, steering very clear of Earth's satellite, toward an enormous, kilometre-long spindle-like ship. Its main body had a gigantic ion jet on either end, which flickered for a few seconds occasionally to correct the ship's position, keeping it eclipsed from Earth by the moon. It had a massive spinning wheel around it, which housed the crew at 1.25 g. The two bodies were connected by eight massive spokes which spun with the wheel. Hundreds of small robotic craft were scattered in the space around the behemoth, participating in its ample camouflage, so that Earth authorities picked up no sign of it. This was the Herod, stationed indefinitely in the Sol system to host and oversee all operations of the PPF therein, and the recovery ship, its trajectory corrected by the space pinch, arrived with almost perfect precision at the fore docking bays in the spindly main body. The pilot only had to flicker the ion jets to adjust the ship for the docking clamp; its closing only gave Sazuko a very small lurch and a few seconds later she could lead the two vats through the pressurized duct into the Herod. The main body had no gravity, so there were railings everywhere, and a few scattered crew members clambered along them with or without cargo, which had to be handled with even more care than in normal gravity. Sazuko exchanged salutes with those she knew.

The duct led directly to the connecting tunnels chamber, an enormous cylindrical hollow which led to the four groups of ten ascension shafts that went into the spinning component. Sazuko steered the pods by its edge, immediately adopting its spin to ease entry, and was soon being pulled at haste through Shaft 37, her feet and the pods restrained firmly to the front end of the elevator. About a sixth of a mile later, during which time the front of the elevator gradually became the floor, she found herself and the pods in increasingly normal gravity. 'Top' was now always the main body's direction, and 'bottom' led into space, so that she felt like it was a descent.


	14. Different People

The air felt a little heavy and stifling. Someone was nudging her shoulder. "You've been asleep for three days, Nana. Wake up, now." The voice belonged to an old, unknown man, and there was another Diclonius in the room. When Nana sprang upright on the comfortable bed, two unfamiliar things flapped at her sides. "It's alright; nobody's going to harm you. You're safe."

She looked to him. The old man was probably as short as her, and he wore a very smart dark grey suit. Behind him, the Diclonius: an equally sharp-dressed young lady with a big smile of unrestrained pride on her comely face, wearing her long pink hair back and thus her cat-ear horns proudly exhibited. She was taller than either of them.

Nana was still very much afraid and confused. "W-Where am I? Who are you?"

"I am Doctor Terrence Southouse," said the old man, "and this is, as of the completion of your excellently done new limbs, Doctor Sazuko Foucault. Where you are is a little more interesting; we'll explain that presently."

"Pleased to meet you," said Sazuko Foucault in a welcoming voice, and in English, and extended her hand. Nana smiled optimistically and tried to accept the hand, but the vector came naked. "You don't have a prosthetic anymore; we've grown you new arms and legs. Here." And she stretched further, took Nana's hand and shook it. The patient screamed her amazement:

"Woooow! Is that mine?" It was as if she'd never lost her real hand.

After months without them, using her own arms and legs was unnatural and difficult, but Sazuko had thought ahead and stimulated the motor centres of Nana's brain, so she managed clumsy movements almost immediately. She also discovered her silk-like purple nightgown, which was "Beautiful!" Jumping out of the bed, she bear-hugged Sazuko who, on her 9 cm heels, was 181 centimetres tall: "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Wait 'till Papa sees these!" She admired her hands again. They reminded her of... "How is Toshiko-san?"

"She can project again, her leg is whole again, and her palms are itching more than ever," said Southouse. "By the way, Dr. Foucault doesn't speak Japanese, but we have several people who do. I'm afraid Yamada is mostly caught up with the constant training that comes with life as a soldier in our close combat units."

"What about Mayu-chan and Kouta-san and -"

Sazuko answered this: "They're all doing well. The boy is in a normal hospital, but his condition isn't serious, and one of the girls has lost her voice, but it's only a temporary inconvenience." She noticed Southouse translating into Japanese. "Don't you speak English?" Nana only nodded eagerly and solicitously. Southouse shook his head from behind, and Sazuko clapped her on the shoulder.

"You'll probably want some food," offered the old doctor pleasantly, "Any favourites?"

Nana got off her bed and into a pair of plush slippers and hopped on her new legs: "Mmmm, sukiyaki! I didn't really get to enjoy it last time!" Southouse scratched his chin. He phoned the kitchens, and one of the chefs confirmed 'the best sukiyaki our guest ever had, made from Earth-descended beef', which he translated.

She looked quizzically at him. "Earth-descended?"

Southouse laughed. "Yep! Come, take a look at something." His hand twitched rapidly on a display, getting it to show a map of the Earth-Moon system, to scale, the black screen mostly occupied with textual data. He pointed to the tiny blue circle on one side of the sea: "That is Earth. You were last conscious there." He turned to the other side where there was a small white dot, and a box which carried a six-figure number which was slowly growing. "This is the moon." His finger shifted a little more toward the edge. "Right now, you're here." Nana stared at him as if he were speaking in tongues. "We're hiding from the Earth's governments behind the moon. So, if you choose to return there, I'd like you to keep silent about us. Now, let's see about that sukiyaki of yours and give you a chance to stretch your new legs." He handed her a robe of the same colour and silky material and she put it on clumsily.

Southouse conducted her at a leisurely pace, through two hallways, to a dining room, which was as sleek and stark as the rest of the ship. Pale light coming from neon lights in the ceiling, and row after row of small white tables. The crew and military kept very strict dining hours, but there were a few civilians scattered here and there. Even though her horns were in plain sight, none of them looked at her as some monster like people on Earth did. Most of them ignored her, only acknowledging Southouse or Foucault, if even them, and those who did look at her did so with at most mild curiosity. A few even smiled.

Presently, a robot, which was a plain, flat-topped box with wheels and two simple arms, brought Nana's food on a great tray and placed it on the table. Nana squealed with joy and dove right in, as the two doctors sat down with her.

"She's a plucky one, is she not?" asked Southouse. "Her psyche is quite formidable if she managed to endure such treatment as Yamada reported and still have such a capacity for joy. I wonder if we can get her to cheer the other one up, she's so dejected."

"Amen to that," said Sazuko. The other Diclonius patient was nameless, clinically depressed from the abuse she'd suffered, and was apparently able to project vectors of decent quality for the first time in her life, and reached only about 175 cm, but she was not at all confident in them and dropped things occasionally. Whenever she thought something bad was her fault, or could be construed as such, she huddled into a corner, crying and expecting to be beaten, and only Yamada was both a Diclonius and a Japanese speaker so nobody else could really comfort her, much to the chagrin of Yamada's platoon commander. At least she never hurt anyone intentionally. "We can ask her after she eats."

"'Sup, Sawbones?" said a passing soldier, who smiled at her, making his great round face even rounder. "Thanks for putting my ankle back together! It works brilliantly."

"Yo, Stevens! Don't mention it, and don't strain it too much," she replied, and stretched a vector – weird name to give Diclonius projections – to clap him familiarly on the shoulder. Contrary to her nickname's connotation, Sazuko was very appreciated for her medical skills, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten her license at less than half the usual age; she was one of the few doctors who had the patience and artistry to recreate bodies with anatomically correct fat deposits, so that not everyone she repaired looked like a starved bodybuilder. The nickname derived from the fact that absolutely nothing could visibly shock or disgust her, no matter how disturbing or sickening it was. She turned back to the patient, whose vectors were one meter longer than hers as well as faster and stronger, but who was nevertheless a vulnerable, abused girl with an incongruently happy disposition, who was digging into the unimpressive-looking Japanese dish with fervour.


	15. Back To Earth

"...As far as you are concerned, you never even left Earth, okay?" The soldier was explaining to Nana and Toshiko's sister, whom Sazuko had named Mirai, about their return to Earth, which under FFP law they were entitled to on the sole condition of secrecy. Less than a day after awakening, Nana's overriding need to find Papa had compelled her to ask to be sent back, and she'd went on to Mirai about the beauty of Earth outside the Institute until Toshiko's sister had pleaded to go back with her. They were all in the weightlessness of the Herod's main body, each holding a railing on the docking bay's wall. "Now, you'll be launched in these puppies." The soldier pointed out two circular pods whose surfaces were distorting mirrors. "To avoid detection we'll put you in shallow water, which is why you were instructed to use these dry suits. Once ashore, you can change into more normal clothes and as long as you keep a low profile, nobody should be the wiser. While inside the pods, keep yourselves strapped in at all times until you land and don't make any unnecessary movements. The shock dampers will ensure that you're not hurt. On a less official note, you may want to dye your hair in a more natural colour, specifically black, and acquire contact lenses to fit in better. Any questions?"

Mirai shuffled, and when Nana encouraged her, she said in a small voice: "Um, can we go in the same pod?" Both Diclonii had full face diving masks on.

The soldier judged their sizes critically. "Yeah, I think we can squeeze the two of you in one easily enough, but it'll be really close and uncomfortable and the air _will_ get stale."

Nana held Mirai by the hands, beaming. "Oh, that won't be a problem, right, Mirai-chan?" She blushed and replied only with a small, embarrassed smile of her own. The soldier scratched his chin awkwardly and used his free hand to pull the drifting girls back to the railing, which they held at once, and to retrieve their floating briefcase, which he gave back to Nana.

"Okay... let's get you strapped in," he said, and whipped out an almost paper-thin remote control. He pressed a pad on it and, where there had been no visible opening, a section of the pod sprang open, revealing, on the inside, a single, large padded chair. "Now, give me your hands and don't push into anything." When they complied, he pushed off the wall with his feet and steered them gently into the seat, which held them both with a bit of room to spare, put the briefcase on their knees and strapped them in. He pointed at a blue button which was covered in a transparent case, right next to a yellow one which wasn't encased. "You'll get jolted three times, with the last being the hardest and the actual landing. Then this case will unlock and you'll lift it up and push the button to open the door. If either the case or the button fails, you can use your vector thingies to let yourselves out, except they never fail. Make sure you're out of your restraints and have your diving masks on before you let the water in. The door will open inward to let the water in, and swing out when it can. These suits have very good heat insulation, so you won't get thermal shock. Take your time with opening the door. There'll be a frogman standing by to help you out, so you can wait for him."

"Frogman?" said Nana. "What's that?" The soldier waited a few seconds, scowling and thinking she was pulling his leg. "Please, I don't want to confuse him for something else!"

"Well – it's just a man who has a lot of experience with diving."

The girls, nestled in the chair's soft padding, nodded, and the soldier made them repeat all the instructions. When he was satisfied, he backed out of the pod. "Well then, the best of luck, and we'll be glad to have you back if you change your minds and decide to study and work with us. You have contact data in the case! Say hello to Earth for me." He was gone, and the door of the pod closed, leaving the two girls in darkness, only punctured by a few red lights.

"I hope Toshiko-san isn't too upset with us," said Mirai.

"Don't worry, she's promised to come visit us," said Nana. "And no matter how harsh she tries to act, she can't stay mad at her pretty younger sister!"

Mirai smiled shyly, stooping over the suitcase. "I think Nana-chan is cute too," she said in the tiniest voice. "And Sazuko-san and Canni-san are almost as cute." The last name was a mangled pronunciation of Cagney, the name of the soldier who had helped them into the pod. Soon after, their pod lurched as it was attached under a small ship, and lurched some more as the ship flew to Earth, taking half an hour to get there, during which time Nana continually encouraged Mirai (and also herself) heartily. Their pilot said nothing the whole trip, for he did not speak Japanese.

Finally, they hurtled into the Earth's atmosphere, and its gravity gradually pulled them down into the chair. Each of the three shocks Cagney had told them about still drew a short double squeal. They'd stopped moving. The air was getting a little stale, and they were both back at normal weight – quite a bit lighter than on the Herod's habitat wheel. Mirai grabbed Nana's arm. "Nana-chan... I'm scared..."

"There, there, just wait for this frogman person," said Nana. "Let's turn on our air supply." Each helmet had a muzzle at the front, with a small oxygen tank on it, but they were open, and the girls breathed the pod's air. Nana closed and locked hers, and Mirai followed suit; their air became fresh almost at once.

A minute or so later, the radio, fastened to the pod's wall, came alive. "Come in, Kurama-san! Yamada-san! Made it alright?" The caller's voice was high-pitched, but distinctly masculine. A high clicking sound told them he was waiting for a response.

It took a few seconds for the girls to recognize their family names. Nana reached to it and slammed her finger into the button as if it were her enemy. "Hello, Frogman-san! Yes, thanks! We're fine!"

"Name's Foucault. I'm Sazuko's granddad, before you ask. Whenever you're ready to come out of that dingy shell, go right ahead. I'm here, don't worry."

The blue button was on Mirai's side. "Go ahead," said Nana. "Wait 'till you see some of the things that are out there!"

The recently re-grown hand moved haltingly to the case, and lifted it up. Mirai's finger rested daintily on the blue bulge in the shiny surface, and the pod's door swung inwards, letting water gush in. It seemed for a moment that the door would crush them, and the girls tensed in terror. The radio blurted on in Foucault's voice: "Stay still, let the water fill the pod. You're safe. Just breathe normally and stay where you are!"

Mirai and Nana were breathing at triple rate as the water filled the pod rapidly. It was a bit chilly even through the dry suits. Soon, it went over their heads, and the pod's stale air was compressed at its top. The door swung back out. A powerful light shone the pod's inside immediately, and a strong and firm hand helped the girls and the watertight suitcase out into the sea. Foucault's suit was the same as theirs, but he had a large oxygen tank on his back, and a flashlight the size and shape of a small cannon in one hand. With the other, he took the suitcase from Nana and led them to shore; the beach was empty. They tripped a lot and had to use vectors to stabilize themselves as they tried to imitate the weird gait needed to walk on dry land with swim fins on.

Foucault, already on the beach and with his diving mask off, watched them as they waded out of the water. The tight suits complimented their figures, even if the awkward gait did not, and his perpetual smile deepened, as did his crow's feet, the only truly deep wrinkles on his otherwise well-preserved, long and clean-shaved face. The girls removed their helmets too, and Mirai stared in rapture at the sunrise (their landing hour had been picked specifically to give her this moment) and started to cry. "It's so... beautiful..."

The old Frenchman stole a few looks at the mainland, each time receiving a hand wave from his guards, then turned back to enjoy the moment himself.


	16. Captain Val

Yamada's new inner thigh was the height of reparatory medicine; though not up to par with the old by any measure it was strong enough for the Herod's pleasant gravity, only a quarter bigger than Earth, and in which she had to do all her push-ups one-handed. It was comfortable to be back on army food as well; she was still short by 3 kilograms, and at her size that was something.

The entire platoon, thirty-six people, shared one vast room as its dormitory; there was no gender segregation and not much privacy, since everybody slept in open bunk beds. On either side, there was a large locker for each soldier, as well as a desk and chair. Many platoons accommodated a senior officer or NCO, or an officer cadet, on top of their own commander, and they all lived exactly like their soldiers, though generals lived with the logistics units, almost never with close combat. Yamada's unit was C Company's 2nd platoon, and its three senior members, all PH, all men, who had solicitously pointed themselves out by yelling in her face at the top of their voices within ten minutes of her first arrival, were 2nd Lieutenant A. Gibbons, Company Master Sergeant P. Mackey (the company's senior NCO) and Staff Sergeant V. Abbott (same as Mackey for the platoon itself). Every soldier was required to carry a com-link through which any of the three could give orders at any time, either to the whole unit or to several soldiers, or just to one. Yamada had just begun doing push-ups on her own initiative when Gibbons used the latter facility: "Yamada, my office, on the double!"

There was no cause to dally. To match the moving speed of a PH, she had to use her vectors and muscles fully, and so she did. The soldiers relaxing on benches in the common hallway eyed the new, tiny girl suspiciously, but they had to turn their heads ninety degrees over two seconds to do so. Toshiko rushed through the open door of Gibbons' office, which was a small cubicle and, as soon as she was in, saluted flawlessly and stood to attention. Due to her having served with some success as a solo operative (especially considering her age) before even graduating into the army's regular ranks, and having made herself available for further such service, she was listed as a special operative (SO), meaning she was not bound to military uniform except for dress occasions, and wearing appropriate camouflaging colours in combat when this applied. Of course, she had to wear insignia clearly displaying her allegiance, branch of service and rank if she wanted to be recognized as a lawful combatant if captured. Dresses and skirts weren't forbidden, but the moratorium was almost universal.

She wore the standard issue dark red T-shirt, underwear and socks, but the lieutenant's perpetual scowl deepened as it always did when he saw Private Yamada's eccentric clothes: this time, shiny black latex trousers which contradicted her crisp salute loudly. He was holding her report, and if any flaws were to be found in it, he would find them the quickest. "This does not include anything about the internal layout of the facility where 7 and 28 were held. No details regarding troop numbers, weapons or other security measures," he said from behind his desk.

"No sir. Neither Nana or my sister were ever put in any position to evaluate their defences, sir." Toshiko had written that in the report. 'Fuck you and your whore mother, Gibbons,' she thought, and it made her feel better, but in words the double 'sir' was as close as she could afford to actually snapping back at him.

"Yet you had contact with someone who had such information," snapped Gibbons. "How is it that an E-Triple C soldier almost got killed by an untrained opponent from Earth and disarmed by another within two days?"

As he spoke, somebody else entered the office: Captain Valerie Lynx, the company's commander. While both officers were very tall, very strong even among PH's, and deadly in combat, that was the limit of their similarity. Gibbons was black, heavily built, he scowled permanently, was proverbially punctilious in military discipline and 28 years old. He had an evenly shaved hair and moustache, both kept scrupulously well under the army's statutory 5 cm limit. Valerie, or Val, Lynx, was taller (she was just over 2 meters, he was just under) and a little wider at the shoulders even than him, but looked a lot lighter because of her (very relative) wasp waist. She was a natural blonde, now greyed out, and her small blue eyes and thin lips almost always held a jocular smile. Her face was covered in fine wrinkles: even though she was only 42 years old, her body had been adult for all of them. She was a first generation viable PH, grown from an engineered, parentless zygote into an adult within six months at enormous expense to serve as a slave soldier, until she was captured and her will-destroying conditioning, reversed. She, too, had SO status, and as Gibbons snapped up and saluted, he had to keep his eyes up to ignore her dark blue knee-shorts and camisole, and her 'armbands,' tattooed directly on the skin along with four thin golden lines on each shoulder instead of epaulette stripes. Yamada saluted too; she beamed at the captain. Valerie Lynx, 'Val' to her soldiers, was completely lax with discipline, but she did not interfere with that of other officers or NCOs. She saluted back carelessly, petted Yamada's head vigorously, and smiled at the lieutenant. "Relax, Avery, you can't make yourself taller than me. Hope I don't have to _order_ you to sit."

"No, ma'am," he said and sat. Val Lynx moved to the wall to his left and propped herself against it, hands in pockets, and looked at Yamada, who had forgotten to answer Gibbons' last question.

"Man asked you something," she said calmly. "And he's right, Toshiko. You're better than this Lucy, and you had her."

Toshiko's ears reddened. "My fault, sir. I allowed myself to be distracted by the human girl, Mayu. She doesn't hold with any killing, sir."

Before Gibbons could browbeat her, the captain spoke again: "She's a good girl, then, this Mayo. What a name, though, her parents must hate her! Well, Toshiko, now you've learned. Next time you'll know if you have the luxury to stay your... hand." She looked down to the lieutenant: "Don't worry about their defences, Avery, Earthlings are pussies."

"Ma'am, according to Yamada they've managed to subdue powerful Diclonii which she can't sense to fight for them and those are dangerous to any PH, even you and me."

Lynx's face was creased in anger for the tiniest moment, but she waved her hand. "Enslaved Diclonii, likewise, are pussies. Given any warning of what was coming, Toshiko would've had those three little bitches for dinner." The named private's ears reddened even more. "If you don't believe me, you will when she gets started." She produced her own com-station, pushed a button on its side and spoke to the entire company at once, her voice sounding tripled in Gibbons' office: "Attention, ladies and gentlemen! Collect your hardware for indoors work, draw ammo and _headphones_, very important,and get yourselves to Spoke F's elevator room, and let's see if we can do it in 10!"

The three platoon dorms of C Company were in an uproar, as soldiers rushed to suit up and line up for live ammunition, which was doled out at six magazines per firearm per soldier or three drums for some rifles, with some soldiers carrying additional equipment, ammunition or explosives, and everyone sporting a pair of huge firing range headphones which connected to their personal com-stations and allowed them to speak to each other almost normally – by default, the com-stations transmitted into any near headphones at about the same range as normal speech.

To prevent the enemy from adapting to its properties, Close Combat troops didn't use standardized weaponry; instead, each carried one or (rarely) two main weapons, which meant anything from submachine guns and the assault rifle of more than half of them to auto shotgun and heavy machinegun, a sidearm, a knife and several grenades, mostly with fragmentation. Almost all of these were adaptations of Earth models, built with superior materials that could withstand more gravity and be equipped with more powerful ammunition, and even so, most of these were not usually lethal to PH's themselves. Yamada Toshiko was by far the most fragile member of the company, but, at close range, her vectors were among its most powerful weapons, and easily the most energy-efficient and readily available.

Red lights flickered throughout the ship, and a deep synthetic voice spoke: "Attention! Armed personnel are moving through common areas." The entire company jogged in a long column to the elevator room, which was a wide expanse with plenty of space for a company on any side of the central structure – a support scaffold ten metres in diameter with a lopsided design to accommodate its permanent rotation and surrounded by 12 elevator shafts. MSGT Mackey, a short (by PH standards), squat Eurasian-lookalike (the original post-humans, among which he was not, had been copies of all known aspects of Homo sapiens) drilled them into formation as soon as he arrived. Not much later, the captain arrived, coming in last. She was one of the few PH's who could fire weapons of long gun configuration or greater with reasonable accuracy one-handed, and consequently had a battle rifle slung on her neck and an auto shotgun holstered on her right hip, and also carried a small projector with a long tripod. "Teen-SHUN!" bellowed Mackey as she got close and the entire company snapped to attention and saluted as one. Val, smiling wearily, saluted back. She fiddled with the projector until the tripod sprang open and she put it on the floor, facing the unadorned, white wall.

The image of a tiny island with high, steep banks appeared on the wall. The photo was more or less isometric from the north and on the far side and to the right there was a small, heavily forested and enclosed park, while the front side was flat and grassy. In the middle there was a concrete helipad and on the left a hefty white high-rise building, slightly bent at the middle of its length to follow the island's shore, and with a less impressive annex stretching toward the centre. "At ease," said Val Lynx and pointed at the building. "This is Japan's National Research Institute on Human Evolution, which is basically a long-winded name that means this is where they keep all the Diclonii they could get their hands on which are still alive. Given the apparent size of their operation, we expect that most of the work is done underground and the over-ground is for the better-aired offices of the brass. We've also gotten word that they've more or less severed ties with the Japanese government, which is, in part, why the Commie has sanctioned Operation Hack." The 'Commie' was a reference to Commodore Alphonse Peron, the Herod's vaguely socialist-leaning captain and one of the more senior members of the FFP federal hierarchy.

After some cringing by 2nd LT. Gibbons, Val went on: "Operation Hack's name was provided by our own Sawbones Sazuko, who pointed out earlier that these Earthlings are hacks who have no conception of real science and whatever purpose their research had was either very modest, or they must be falling woefully short of it. What it all means to us is that we're going to be dropped on that little shit of an island and tear up the place in search of any and all Diclonii we might find." At this point she frowned, and her voice became a lot less edgy and confident. "I don't know what state we're going to find them in, but it won't be anything good. Most of them will probably be certified head cases and might even attack you, so be careful because these girls _can_ hurt us and even kill us. We don't expect to find many of them; no matter how much they've dug up the underground..." she faltered. The implication that the overwhelming majority of the captured Diclonii had been murdered made the atmosphere heavy. Val recovered, noticed this and snapped: "As to their captors, listen up! We're permitted to use deadly force IF they get in our face or attack us. This is a _search and rescue_, not a cleanup, though we might end up doing that too. If anybody starts going out of their way to slaughter them or torture them, you get one warning, then the usual solution will be employed _immediately._" The usual solution was an armour-piercing round to the back of the head at point-blank range. "This includes everybody up to Sawbones and you." She pointed at Toshiko. "If the Diclonii we do find get murderous but it's not against any of us, it's probably better to just let them vent and be done with it. And, naturally, we can't let anybody escape the island before we evacuate."

Sazuko Foucault, beautifully arrayed in a beige ladies' business suit, discreetly striped with darker brown, a pink shirt and a delicate multiple necklace made of silver and studded with large beige and pink topazes was launched through the door by her own vectors and she skidded to a halt deftly on her lacquered boots, also beige and with thick versions of her eternal 9 cm heel. Her hair, together at shoulder level by a brooch covered under a bigger beige topaz swished about, and she carried a small icebox. Together with Val's casual summer attire and Toshiko's black latex pants and greatcoat, she stood out easily from the soldiers' khaki. All the soldiers' eyes went from Val to Sazuko, most of the men caught between the attractive, fully grown young woman they saw, and the knowledge that she was at an age where most girls were in puberty, and very far away from a doctorate in reparatory medicine. "Eyes front!" roared Mackey.

Even Sazuko looked back to the captain, but for no reasons pertaining to the MSGT: "Have I missed anything?"

"No, you know this stuff," said Val affably. She turned back to the company: "Now comes the rub! We don't really know what's in there. There are no plans available, no details of what they have inside, except that they do have the means to restrain Diclonii. And quite frankly if we haven't gotten any details without endangering anyone in the last ten years, we can assume none are forthcoming until someone actually kicks in the door. That's us. Whatever we find in that island is going to be a surprise, and we will have to play this one by ear, so if anybody feels like pulling any stunts, tell me now." She looked straight at 3rd LT. Ann Sturgeon, a young, good-looking PH woman as tall as her but thinner; in battle a good, aggressive, inspiring platoon leader, and one of the fastest sprinters of the species, but undisciplined, immodest, alcoholic, neglectful of her soldiers and duties outside combat, and given to cackling and bouts of insanity. Unconcerned, Ann Sturgeon scratched herself below the left breast then returned the hand to the pocket it had been resting in. Val carried on: "The lack of intelligence is not wholly on our side, because to them we don't even exist in nightmares, and we'll be going in at night. By the time their little radars, if they have any, pick up the signal, it'll be too late, and the ships are almost invisible in a night sky." Val clapped her hands with a wide gesture. "Are we ready for this?"

A hundred and seven shouts. "Yes ma'am!"

"Aft docking bay 7, then!"

Mackey roared the correct drilling orders and the company moved into the elevators. The smallest ones could only accommodate three PH's but the four largest ones were good for thirty each, and all unoccupied.


	17. Operation Hack

The four ships emerged, seemingly out of the void, a few thousand kilometres off the Earth's surface, and their ion engines sent them careening into the planet's gravity. Within half an hour of leaving the Herod's docking clamps, filled with the C Company, they were only a few kilometres above the Kanegawa Prefecture's shoreline, with the lead ship's pilot inadvertently following the same course he'd used the day before to drop two girls in a pod, after which the squad swooped in formation, descending until the target island was visible, and when nobody seemed to react, they hovered over its flat space, which finally made them barely visible to the island's security in the young night. But their bays opened, and out of them sprang such intruders as the guards had no business fighting against.

Captain Valerie Lynx landed almost on top of a patrolling guard and pointed her two large weapons right at his face. "Drop that pea-shooter! Do it now!" His SMG dropped involuntarily out of his hands; she kicked it away. "Get down and face the ground! Hands where I can see them!" She spoke in English, which he didn't understand, so she wrestled him easily to the ground, kneeled over him to bind his hands and feet with polypost binders that were strong enough to give her trouble, frisked him, and destroyed his pistol and cell phone. For good measure, she pushed her auto shotgun's barrel in his face. "Stay put, yes?"

The other patrolling guards were not so pliant; they started shooting, and Val's company shot back. Gibbons drew first blood; his high-powered rifle banged like a small explosion and the head of one of the guards burst apart like a trampled rotten tomato. "A little high," he said to himself. Very soon, the entire company and Sazuko Foucault were disembarked, and the ships, which, this time, had ample weapons, climbed a hundred yards in a defensive quadrant. A last unfortunate guard's chest was turned into paste by a shotgun blast, and then all the others were subdued, and their phones and radios were all destroyed. Ann Sturgeon was cackling at her own captured guard, swearing at him in garbled Japanese and repeatedly shoving the barrel of her battle rifle in his crotch; the captain boxed her ears, silencing her, and shoved her away.

1st Lieutenant Feodor 'Theo' Chaliapin was cutting an opening in the main door of the imposing institute building with a plasma torch. He was Val Lynx's executive officer, or second-in-command, and technically it was not his job to command a platoon, but the captain had taken up the XO's logistics and communications duties upon herself, and performed them by bullying and trading on her fame, so the three-platoon company was ran with four officers rather than the standard five. When Chaliapin was done, he kicked the cut section in and several soldiers lobbed grenades of various descriptions into it. A number of explosions later, the company rushed inside, covered by thick smoke, storming in squads and firing teams up ladders and into offices, immediately gunning down anyone who even tried to point weapons at them and subdued everyone else, brutally shoving them about and yelling at them.

The few who understood English had it a little easier, but one secretary was thrown through an open door by an overzealous private first class (PFC), and landed at the feet of Toshiko and Sazuko, who had slowly moved in, not participating in the organized mayhem. Her surprise and shock were nothing to the sheer terror on her face when she found two Diclonii looking down at her with those vicious, contemptuous red eyes. She tried to crawl away, screaming at the top of her lungs. Sazuko looked at Toshiko, who looked back, and after a short while snatched the hysterical woman with a vector and slammed her head into the nearest wall, putting an end to her yells. The PFC, a large, meaty woman, emerged and restrained the secretary, with an embarrassed nod to the two Diclonii. A few seconds later she escorted the unsteady woman back in the office.

Val Lynx was pointing to any video camera she could find and bellowing like a madwoman: "You're fucking next! You're fucking next!"

She sent two squads to clear the upper levels, but the company's bulk progressed downwards, by way of stairs when they could and elevator shafts when not. They cut all the elevator cables therein, and very soon large numbers of security guards were opposing them with a carpet of fire from their SMG's. These were too light to seriously damage the post-humans' enormously tough physique, even when they did hit, for the soldiers always took cover when they could. Their own heavy, loud weapons tore through the tactically inept guards and stunned the survivors with their bangs.

The captain, followed by Toshiko, two other soldiers and Sazuko, stormed into a control room where three very scared men in white coats surrendered at once and one of them screamed in English, saying the l's more like r's: "Please don't kill us! Please don't kill us!"

Sazuko looked through the room's large window. It led into a much larger room where an unconscious Diclonius girl hung naked by the hands, which were fettered, her modesty only covered by thick, dark blood. She was half-alive and looked like a fourteen year old. "Please don't kill us?" she hissed at him. "What about her? I'll bet she pleaded a lot with you!"

"Stay cool," warned Val. The man squealed and dropped to his knees when he realized the woman questioning him was a Diclonius as well, and a very angry one.

"P-please, you must understand... that girl's a killer! The only life she can ever have is – is here! She's not c-civilized, like you are, she'd kill us all, even you, given half a chance!"

"What makes you think I'm not a killer?" Sazuko asked coldly, and before he could answer she'd lashed out with a vector, sending his severed head into the wall behind him with a nasty thud. She turned to the other two, but the soldiers stepped in between and the tip of Val's modified FN FAL rifle touched her throat. Toshiko, oblivious to the scene, was happily shooting a bullet or two a second through the open door ("Ha! Got one!").

"That's enough, Sawbones," said Val calmly.

"Sorry, Val," said Sazuko in the same tone.

"You surprise me."

"I surprise myself!"

Val smiled. "Are we cool?"

A few seconds of silence, and Sazuko's body relaxed and slumped a little. "Yeah, sure."

The rifle was lowered. "Toshiko, stop dicking around! I'll take the door." After a final shot, Toshiko stood up and let Val take her place. "See about the girl!" Val went on, and then pointed to the soldiers: "You two, with me." Within a few seconds, they were laying down bursts of suppressive fire on a pocket of resistance, where a few guards had barricaded themselves in a disused Diclonius-holding room of the same design, and advancing on them.

Toshiko sprang on top of one of the two terrified scientists. "Take off the robe! Now!" He only cowered under his hands, and when Toshiko tried to tug the robe off him he only screamed and tried to beat her hands away. She slapped him hard on the face: "Stop resisting!" She hit him again, breaking the skin. "STOP RESISTING!" Finally, he allowed himself to be wrestled out of his lab robe and Toshiko bound him and his colleague, while Sazuko whacked the secured window a few times with the full force of her vectors, until she finally obtained a hole large enough to pass through comfortably, which they did immediately and ran toward the girl.

The stench of blood, urine and faeces forced Toshiko to halt midway through, cringing, but Sazuko snatched the robe from her and went on undeterred. Shamed, Toshiko followed slowly. Sazuko snatched one of the fetters' wall attachments with a vector and tried to tear it out casually, then forcefully. "What the hell? It's not coming out!"

"Of course not! It's made to hold Diclonii in place!" said Toshiko, and vector-nudged the half-dead girl. "Wake up! We're going to get you out of here!"

Sazuko was pulling with all her force at the restraint now. "Why didn't we make those men release her?"

"Fuck'em! They'd rather die than let this girl go, and I'm not about to torture anybody."

"Well, me neither," said Sazuko, scratching her head.

"Bring them here... I will do that..." The whimpering voice was full of malice. The trapped Diclonius was looking up at them, and the expression of violent, sadistic joy on her face gave even Sawbones Sazuko a moment's pause.

"Maybe later," she said. "This thing was meant to hold one of us, not three, so if we all pull at it should come free. We'll do it left to right. I'll count to one." If anybody could've seen the scene in ultraviolet, they'd have noticed a bright cacophony of hands clutching on top of and into each other over the thick chain. "One!" The wall seemed to cringe as they tried to loosen the meter-long rod of steel, which was holding the chain to the wall. Suddenly, it sprang out in an arc that struck the wall on the other side. The other rod had the same fate, and the girl was free. Sazuko helped her up and into the robe. Toshiko forced herself to stop gagging.

"Well, that takes care of that. By the way, I'm Yamada Toshiko and this is Foucault Sazuko; she doesn't speak our language. Got a name by any chance?"

"Name?" asked the girl as she struggled to stand up. "The things people call each other, right? Well... I guess that makes me Number Ten. Thank you... for coming. Where are they?"

"Come again?"

The girl started a hobbling run for the broken window, the two metal rods still chained to her hands clanging on the floor. "Otani... Sugiyama... Ando... Time for payback!" Toshiko and Sazuko followed her. She sprang clumsily through the hole, and the two men inside started to plead. The girl shut them up somehow.

When Sazuko and Toshiko sprang back into the control room, she was on her knees, stroking the two remaining men's heads at the same time. Their lower faces were slightly contorted: her invisible vectors were forcing them silent. She was talking to them: "I'll find them no matter how long it takes. And they _will_ suffer... I know how to kill slowly. I bet your children are going to be a lot of fun... too bad you won't be there to see it..." Their abdomens were slowly slashed open, and their faces were twisted and red with the pain.

"Hey!" bellowed Toshiko. "Come on, we don't have time for this shit!"

"I want to see them suffer... I want to hear them _scream_... don't you?"

"Bullshit, Ten!" said Toshiko. "What I want is to get the hell out of this dump, and you can come with us or stay with these two, but you'll starve to death after you've eaten them!" Sazuko stood silently behind her, arms crossed.

Terror on her face, Number Ten sprang up to her, finally letting the two helpless men scream their pain as their intestines and blood spilled onto the floor. She clambered on Toshiko's shoulders, and the soldier cringed. "No, no, I don't want to die!" she yelled. "Take me with you! Pleeease!"

Sazuko removed her gently and led her to the door, shushing her. Val and the two soldiers came out at about the same time. "They're with us," hissed Toshiko at Number Ten before she got any ideas. "They're here to help."

And her mind was inundated with blood, or at least that's how it felt. Number Ten's too; she fell, clutching her head, and Toshiko landed painfully on her knee. Sazuko felt it too, but she knew at once it was just a perception. There was no time to worry about what it meant, so she forced herself to concentrate on Toshiko and Ten and dragged them both to meet with Val and her two men. "What's wrong?" the captain asked.

Sazuko took a few moments to answer. "Val... I have no idea. Except that it's very bad."


	18. A Wound In The World

A large number of white, luminescent columns sprang up, passing freely through successive floors, as the C Company, their rescued Diclonii and the remaining Institute people, some caught in their midst, watched aghast. They were vectors, and visible, enormous ones at that. The captain snatched her radio, selecting 'all,' and howled into it: "THIS IS VAL! EVERYBODY OUT! NOW!"

The company rushed back to ground level with whatever rescued Diclonii they had, flooding through windows and some of the few secondary doors. They'd spread throughout the entire complex, though without combing it all, or even most, and they moved so quickly that there was no time to get crowded. Chaliapin and his platoon had gone the lowest into the warren of the Institute and they came out carrying not only Diclonii, but seven of their own, who were badly injured. Chaliapin himself was bloody and stooped, and when his entire platoon was away from the building, and the wounded soldier he had carried was taken off him, he coughed with blood bubbles and went on all fours.

Val ran to him: "Theo! What the hell happened?"

He tried to right himself, but could only manage it when she helped him. "It's ugly down there, ma'am. They have some nasty gear, heavy-duty bullets and air cannons." He coughed blood again. "Bastards broke my ribs with a fucking iron round shot. Five kilos! But we gave worse than we got; none of us is dead yet, and -"

At that moment there was a small explosion which sent those closest to it onto the ground, and felled a few more, including Chaliapin, with pieces of building. When the smoke cleared, and Val had some semblance of control over her company once again, there was a large, neat hole in the ground, about fifteen yards across, where the Institute main gate had been. Most of the Diclonii were laughing hysterically – all, in fact, except Sawbones and Toshiko.

Val looked at them as puzzled as the other soldiers. "Anybody know how many of them we got?"

"Twenty-one," said Toshiko after a few seconds, with a streak of despair in her voice. "I can't feel any others, but I can't feel any fucking thing! The big one which tore the ground is _everywhere!_"

Humans started to stream out of the building and even trap doors in the ground, and they were not attacking, but running away. The rescued Diclonii lashed out at them with unexpected strength and fury, killing a few before Val even ordered her soldiers to join in. "Nobody's getting out of here before we are!" she said and when a heavily laden helicopter took off laboriously, she ran up to the Institute's building. The battle rifle dangled by her neck, and the auto shotgun was strapped to her wrist. She snatched them both and pointed them at the helicopter's engine as it tried to move away from the ground and the building. The soldiers inside started to give fire, but Val Lynx didn't even blink, just emptied the magazines into the helicopter within five seconds. Several bullets glanced off her, some breaking skin.

Smoke belched out of the holes and the helicopter landed hard, next to the building. Val's closest soldiers promptly showered it with additional fire.

Somebody threw a grenade right under it; one soldier ran out, but Val jumped at him, grabbed him with one hand by the shoulder, breaking it, and rammed her other hand, held straight, into his liver with such force that it remained lodged into the tear it made, up to the wrist, ignoring the helicopter, which endured a small explosion and was enveloped in flames. Val pushed the twitching, gurgling soldier off her hand, which was covered in almost black blood, and threw him to the ground. Her eyes went as wide as they'd ever had. A large metallic gate, though smaller than the now-destroyed main entrance, was open; presumably it had been the helicopter's hangar. A stream of figures had emerged through it. They were young Diclonii, most rather dirty and some blood-stained; their rather puerile nakedness was accentuated by large cloth bags which completely covered their heads. They walked slowly and in utter silence.

Val gaped at them without shame: "Well, fuck me!" And her face broke into a huge grin. "That's more _like _it! Come with me, we'll get you out of this shit hole!" she roared happily, and turned around with a great wave of her hand. The Diclonii might not know English but they were bound to understand that. Whooping, Val ran back to her soldiers, which had began to give first aid to Chaliapin's wounded and the rescued girls. "Hey, listen up! We've got a lot of Diclonii incoming! We'll need a lot more ships to get them all out of here; there's literally hundreds of them! Look, they're coming!"

Indeed, the hooded girls were streaming to the surface in great numbers, and the soldiers and the other Diclonii stared at them. Val clicked her heels in a small jump and strode the last paces to the bulk of her company, but Sazuko wasn't looking happy. "They're useless," she said. "And we can't do anything for them. Not in the short term at any rate."

"What? Why?"

"I can feel them, even read them if you will," said Sazuko.

"How the fuck can you do that?" snapped Toshiko from behind. "I can't feel anything except... you know, that thing down there."

"Well, I can, and these girls are all non-viable; everything they know is violence and rage. They hate everything, and I wouldn't rate anyone who tried to teach them otherwise. They'll probably attack! Check that, they _will_ attack, they want to kill us too!"

Val turned to the swarm of girls indignantly and yelled: "Your gratitude is driving me to fucking tears! We've come a long way to get you out of here, you know, and that kind of travel doesn't come cheap!" Toshiko translated; he girls stopped and started to look at each other. The ground lurched, and a bit more of it fell into the hole. Soldiers and rescued Diclonii alike drew closer together without knowing it, but they did know that the island was falling apart.

Sazuko tugged her shoulder. "They're confused, Val, they saw you kill one of the staff here... but they want to take revenge on the world and they're not going to let you get in the way. They're too many, at least seven or eight hundred, we can't win!"

"My business is not _with_ the Earth," snapped Val. "Toshiko! Tell them they can go and kill all the population of Japan for all I care, if they can cross the sea." She waited for the translation, and pointed north. "It's that way! And whoever wants to have a shot at a better life can come with us." Toshiko translated again. "But if any of them tries anything against us, there will be fucking murders!" Again, Toshiko repeated her words in Japanese, and the hard edge to her voice this time reminded Val of herself.

Gibbons, annoyed at the standoff, strode to the burning helicopter, holding his weapon lowered, the finger off the trigger, and going right through a group of hooded Diclonii without so much as a side glance, and they looked at him, but did nothing. He suddenly kicked the flaming machine, denting it, and still the Diclonii just stared blankly at him. They had holes for their eyes in the hoods, sometimes three or four holes or visors, and he could see that most of the eyes were by no means normal. "See," he said snidely, walking around the burning wreck, "not everything that moves is your enemy. You'd better get off this island if you can, 'cause it's going down. Not that you even understand what I'm saying... HELLO!"


	19. Last Survivor

The half-naked woman stepped awkwardly out of the lift. Her vaccine was gone, and the Diclonii would have torn her mysterious saviour apart by now. She'd been so close... with her vaccine humanity could be saved from the Diclonius scourge and everybody would speak her name in awe – Arakawa Ai, the next Marie Curie. But the mysterious man had been able to pull only her out of the hole, not the vaccine, so it was gone.

She followed his directions to the helicopter, which took her around the building's corner. She saw the helicopter, alright, though not where it was supposed to be. It had crashed, and was burning. A few Diclonii were looking at it. Tears streamed down Arakawa's eyes. A huge black man in khaki suddenly appeared and pointed a massive rifle at her, shouting in English: "...Hello! Don't move!" And he strode to her. The Diclonii were looking at her too, and coming from all sides, ever so slowly.

She didn't want to die, but that couldn't be helped... if only someone could go back down and find the vaccine, at least her life would mean something...

The black man stopped. A Diclonius brushed her shoulder against him absent-mindedly. He grinned and lowered his weapon. "Ah, never mind," he said, and turned back. "These girls will take good care of you. WHAT THE -!"

The shout had been caused by a large egg-shaped craft with three round windows on its front, emerging from the water, climbing the steep shore with legs that were giant visible vectors. An even bigger vector had swooped down from its top on the group of Diclonii around the large man, and it utterly destroyed their top halves. The man ducked, but not quickly enough; the huge vector caught the back of his head, swatting off his cap and sending his face into the grass. One of the vector-legs did the same to the Diclonii on her other side, but she was intact. "Oh, what next?..." Arakawa asked it aloud.

"Hey! Woman!" The voice came from inside the thing. From behind a hatch, actually, which a man threw open: "Are you a re-"

A rifle boomed, and he wobbled then fell out, screaming. The black man had gotten up on his feet and had shot the thing's driver, or whatever he was. The back of his own head was covered in blood, and he was wobbly, but he still grinned and shouted: "Yeah, motherfucker! That's what you get!"

The top vector bunched up in a fist and dug into the turf where he stood, but he'd jumped back, almost crashing into Arakawa, and aimed again. She grabbed his rifle and tried to shout at him, but he swung the weapon violently and she fell off. There was an angry scream. Something black crashed into the craft's front and the other side's hatch flew off. The black shape got in and there was more screaming. The craft's vectors froze into place and the black thing emerged, jumping uncannily onto the turf and heading their way. There was a dull thud and a small gush of fire out of each of the hatches; the craft's giant vectors disappeared and it cracked open like an eggshell, falling back into the sea.

"Not bad, Yamada," said the man, and the black shape, who appeared to be a human girl, fell on all fours and vomited. And Arakawa knew it was all over, for the girl was another Diclonius. "Goddamn it, Yamada! Are you alright?"

The Diclonius, who wore a black latex greatcoat, stained with plaster and dust, matching pants, and had even dyed its hair black, righted itself. "I'll be fine, sir. What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I've had worse."

The Diclonius saw Arakawa and grinned. It spoke snidely: "Why, Lieutenant, I had to see it to believe it! That an officer of your station would set aside a wretched yet defenceless local for his sport! You like to live on the edge, sir, knowing what the reward is for rapists, even rapists of the enemy! "

The black man stole a look at Arakawa, and turned back. "Shut your fringe, you little bitch! I found her like this, if you must know, and I was planning to take her back to the Captain to sort her out. And if I hear any more shit about rape, I'll knock the piss out of you and make you drink it!"

Arakawa knew English more than well enough to understand that the crazy man was berating a _Diclonius._ "No, don't talk to it like that!" she pleaded in it. "Come on, run!"

He snatched her by the arm instead. "So, you speak gaijin, eh? Come on!" And he walked, pulling her irresistibly, right past the Diclonius, which she desperately tried to avoid as much as possible, but it only followed him and her sullenly. There were a lot of other large people in khaki like him spread around the island, and four large aircraft, almost invisible and as black as the night, had landed, and they were loading wounded – and more Diclonii – into one of them. A large middle-aged woman in shorts, an A-top and carrying two scary guns was casually directing everything, and at her side was a sharp-dressed Diclonius, who carried an injection gun, with which it anaesthetized some of the people who boarded the ship.

The woman turned around and laughed a bit at the sight of Arakawa. "What've you got there, Avery?"

"A survivor of the Institute's staff, ma'am. Probably the last survivor." And he shoved Arakawa forward. "She speaks English."

The gray-haired woman stooped over her. She was forty centimetres taller, or almost. "What's your name, then, last survivor?" She straightened, her face creased with disgust. "Man, you stink, last survivor! Is that why you escaped both us and your local friendly Diclonii?"

"My name is Arakawa Ai, and I'll thank you people to not shove me around or make improper remarks!" She was drawing at her last strands of courage.

"I'll make improper remarks when I want to," the woman said, and there was danger in her eyes. "I'm _Captain_ Val Lynx, right? I've not fallen so low as to let an unwashed little Earthling whore who traipses around in her underwear, and whose business is to torture Diclonii, talk down to me. Get that through your thin skull if you value your life!"

When she took a step forward, Arakawa shuffled back the same distance. "No, you don't understand... I didn't do any direct work with the living subjects, I only developed the vaccine!"


	20. The Vaccine

The spiffy Diclonius, who'd been ignoring the discussion and had just eased in an Asiatic man with a bloody side into the ship, did an about turn at that.

"What vaccine?" asked Val Lynx.

"The... the vaccine against the Diclonius virus! They spread it into the atmosphere, and every child conceived after today will be born a Diclonius without it! Oohh, but it's hopeless, the vaccine is gone... and I'd finished it too!"

"_You_ finished an anti-Diclonius vaccine?" The well-dressed Diclonius had said that, scathingly and with a hint of a French accent, and looking down the nose at Arakawa. "It's not so simple to do that, you know. Took my mother and her team years to develop it and give me a chance of having nephews and nieces at least, and _they_ are _real _scientists. Where is it?"

"I don't have it! I've lost it! But the other Diclonii seem to be drawn to it, aren't you?"

The Diclonius laughed. "How convenient! No, I don't feel anything of the sort."

"Slow down, Sawbones, you'll get heartburn," said Val. "Maybe you're too far from it." She walked up to the ship's front and banged on the hull. "Hey, Ulrich!"

After a few seconds, a previously undetectable door swung open and a man's meaty head poked out. "Wha'd'you want?"

"Did you drive that ship away?"

"Yeah, they were pissed off at us for Yamada blowing up their giant egg, but I melted one of their gun turrets and they turned rudder when I told them to."

"They were drunk?"

"What?"

"Just a joke. I need you to look at that heat sensor of yours and tell me if there are more life signs cramped into a spot than everywhere else."

The head swung back inside. "Yeah, got it right here. Looks about level with us here, there's a few hundred of those naked girls squeezed tightly in one place. Don't think they're even moving. It's off to the right, should be just next to the edge of the hole." A large clump of Diclonii was visible at that location.

Val slammed the door shut. "Thanks! Toshiko, did you get that?"

The black-haired Diclonius answered this, frowning: "Yeah, why?"

"Fetch!"

"What! Why me?"

"Because you can get near enough to snatch it without necessarily provoking them," said Val impatiently, "and more importantly because I said so."

The Diclonius, apparently called 'Yamada Toshiko', pulled Arakawa brusquely by the arm and brought its face into hers so that their noses almost touched, and asked menacingly: "What's it look like, anyway?"

"It's a steel box, about this big, and it has a small black handle and a leather cord."

'Yamada Toshiko' stepped back and spat ostentatiously on the ground, right in front of Arakawa's feet. "Wish me luck, Stinky Panties!"

"How dare you," started Arakawa, but the Diclonius was sprinting in for the designated tree line. Each 'step' was longer than it was tall, and she was soon lost among the naked ones. The irony and embarrassment of having a Diclonius save the anti-Diclonius birth vaccine she'd invented stung. "Good luck," she said in a tiny, reluctant tone.

"Goddamn vaccine," muttered Toshiko in English. "Why'd I have to help Earth solve its own fucking problems, and those problems are my own people, no less! I guess Val knows what she's doing but still..." She looked back once to see a squad boarding the ship with the wounded and the Diclonii, and heard the ship take off as she made her way through the increasingly thick crowd of what were essentially naked children. She gently made her way through to the middle: "Excuse me... pardon me..." At this distance she could actually feel them faintly through the overriding presence at the bottom of the expanding, gaping hole in the island, but that was no comfort, for they just felt like small deeper wounds in the great throbbing mess.

In the very middle there was a small open space. The Diclonii were staring stupidly at the box that Stinky Panties had described. Toshiko thought for a second, then: "Hey, anybody need this old thing?" She stood over the box, looking at each of the closest girls, but none of them made any reply, just stared blankly at her and the box. On the hole's side, they were tightly packed, some of them with their heels barely short of the vast drop, oblivious to the danger. The ground broke up under one's feet and she tumbled silently to her death, the others ignoring her completely. Toshiko launched a vector to catch her, but it was too short and went unnoticed. "Right... well, if nobody wants this, I'll take it."

The moment her hand was on the box, she vaulted high with all her power, flying toward the exposed, torn ground floor of the Institute, which she clambered horizontally on by vector until rushing out of the hole where there were none of the hooded girls. The ground collapsed into the pit right from under her feet, but she rushed up to Val, and held up the box. "Is this it?"

Arakawa broke into tears. "Yes, yes, thank you, thank you!" She made to grab it, but Toshiko snatched it back at the last moment and Arakawa fell on her face.

"I've not been ordered to let you have it," Toshiko said.

Val laughed. "Let her have the damned thing."

Arakawa picked herself up with attempted dignity and took the box, but she crouched and began to fawn over it at once in Japanese. The island lurched and huge cracks appeared in it.

Val arched her eyebrows and turned to Sazuko. "That's our business done, I suppose."

"Yep! The sooner we get off this... island, the better."

"Shame that we can't take them," said Val, indicating the hooded girls with a slow, wide swing of her giant arm. They were approaching in their slow, ponderous way.

"Their minds are mush," said Sazuko. "And speaking of them, we'd better leave while they still let us!"

"Right. Everybody, load up! Move it, move it, move it!" The soldiers, many of whom were sitting, rose up and began to beeline for the ships' open bays. Sazuko seized Arakawa remotely and dumped her in one of the ships. When she was about to board the same ship, she tripped. Toshiko swayed like a drunk.


	21. Flight

"What the hell is that?" cried Toshiko. The great stifling presence had augmented several times over in a few short seconds.

"It's coming from over there!" Sazuko pointed at the northernmost end of the Institute's surface structure. A small figure was visible, standing right on the corner. Toshiko took out her sniper scope from one of her coat's interminable interior pockets and looked through it. The figure was a naked Diclonius with streaming pink hair, easy to recognize. There was blood on her chin and chest, and murder on her face.

"Lucy," said Toshiko. "Bloody fucking hell. It's the cunt herself. Lucy."

Val glared down at her. "Is that the same Lucy who tore open your leg?"

"And who tore open this whole fucking island." Toshiko's small fists were closed. Val picked her up and went into the ship, where thirty-odd PH's had already strapped themselves into their chairs, which were on either side of the ship's cargo bay, and Arakawa Ai was sitting uncomfortable, alone, on the left chair nearest to the ramp. Val plopped herself and Sazuko on two empty seats in the middle of the same side and ordered the pilots to take off and open fire on Lucy at once.

At the same time, Lucy's own bright, visible vectors sped toward the three ships, and their takeoff was slowed by the island breaking apart right under them. Lucy's leading vectors struck the nearest ship just as it had cleared the crumbling island and sent it forcibly into the sea, as the other two fired a volley of missiles at her. The Institute building blew apart, but the vectors kept coming and grabbed the ship carrying Val, Sazuko, Toshiko and Arakawa, so that when the ion jets forced it free, Lucy was left holding chunks of its fuselage, the same alloy with enough strength to build ion jet components from, as well as to withstand micro-collisions in the void of space and sudden direction changes at hypersonic speed, and the ship started leaking its fuel, which immediately ignited into a bright white flame trailing from the hole.

Oblivious to the lights flickering and the ship's lurching, Sazuko was screaming at Val: "Murderer! Murderer! She's killing them all!"

"She's killing US you mean!"

"No, the hooded girls! She destroyed the island and now they're drowning!"

The hooded Diclonii, whatever their power, lacked the skill and the initiative to try to save themselves. The island broke into several pieces and sank, and they went down with it. The water flooded into the empty space and shot up in a massive geyser in the middle, and when that subsided, the ships and Lucy had already moved away. Val managed to call the three pilots after a few tries: "No more collateral damage to be had! Blast her for real, will you?"

All three ships trained their auto cannons on where Lucy supposedly was and unleashed a barrage of explosive shells that turned the night into day with a thick line of bright explosions like gigantic white marbles on several strings. Lucy's vectors stopped attacking them, but Toshiko screamed at once: "Target remains! She's not hit!"

They couldn't very well retreat into space with one of the ships leaking fuel rapidly and another's space pinch out of order, so they kept accelerating toward the shore, followed by Lucy, and carpet bombing her general location. "We're out of fuel!" shouted the pilot through the internal com link as the ship slowed down sharply. "Land is still three miles away!"

"She's catching up!" shouted Toshiko, and at the same moment Lucy lashed out with a single very thick vector at the ship she'd crumpled first, and broke the left ion jet right off the wing, so that it bounced on the sea surface several times, slowing down. The whole ship banked hard, firing all its weapons at once, but it barely avoided being crumpled by another vector and it was forced to repeat the hard turn. A sudden flurry of vectors snared it like a net and when it sped back to shore, Lucy herself was riding it and trying to project vectors inside to kill the occupants. The ship missing one engine fired a heat-seeking missile at once, and within seconds it had connected with the closest ion jet of the one Lucy was straddling.

The violent explosion sent the ship spinning into the sea with that side's fuselage brutally mangled and no wing left. It did rapid cartwheels through the shallows, losing its other wing, and dug itself firmly into the sand, not long before the other ships braked as well as they could and crash landed not far from it. The remaining ion engines flickered and went offline. Even when using other propulsion, an ion jet had to be kept latent but active, still fusing to keep up the proper temperature. The modules needed to restart the reaction instantly were too long, bulky and especially fragile to be included in an twenty-seven metre long all-purpose craft which might see combat, and without them it took hours and lots of wasted fuel.

Dazed and bloodied soldiers poured out of the destroyed ships; Val shoved Arakawa out and got her to run away at gunpoint.

"What now?" asked Sazuko, walking out of the broken ship shakily.

"No idea," said Val shakily. "We threw enough explosives at her to level a small city. Speaking of which... won't the Earth police swarm this place any moment now?"

The two Diclonii shrugged, and Val turned to her radio. "Ann!"

"Yo, Val," answered the machine in Ann Sturgeon's flippant tone. "Before you ask, we had a bumpy ride, but we're alive, so to say. Except Richard. The hostile painted the cockpit's interior with him." Richard was the pilot of the ship that had gotten the worst of Lucy's chase. Ann Sturgeon laughed nervously for a few seconds, then: "The rest of us are all happily coughing blood and spitting teeth."

"Never mind the hostile, we won't do anything to her with small arms," said Val. "And we don't need a scuffle with the local dicks. Get the hell out of here, blend, hide, and we'll see about getting picked up quietly at night!" She then conveyed the same message to Mackey, who was the ranking soldier in the third ship, and then to her own group. They all started away, looking back warily at Lucy, who had released her ears. "Toshiko, run ahead, you've been here before. Call me if you run into the fuzz."

So, while every other soldier retreated warily, Toshiko sped up the beach to see if it was as empty as the season dictated. As Lucy's presence became more distant, and thus less stifling, she realized that was why she'd been sent ahead and thanked Val in her mind. Sazuko had been much less disturbed by Lucy. On the land side, she saw an almost vertical wall which had been put there to raise the road on its top above most of the sea's unpleasantness. Not that far, a man was walking, slumped, supporting himself on the stony wall.

A young man she'd seen a few days before get shot.

Meanwhile, Lucy observed the soldiers disperse into the city; she was crazed and deafened at first, but she noticed the leader clearly: the cocky, imperious giant woman carrying two big guns, making a strut of each step she took and preferring wide, almost theatrical movements. She must have ordered that huge torrent of explosions meant to kill her, and Lucy ignored the others, even the two traitors which fled with them. The little bitch in black she kept her Diclonius perception trained on, though. That one had almost managed to kill her a few days before. She was speeding away, but Lucy found that she had no trouble keeping tabs on her even at a much larger distance. Even though the air battle had been an intense affair, it hadn't strained her like tearing up the island, and she was still confident in her power and body.

The leader had detached herself from the others and had jumped right up a lonely tree, deposited her big weapons carefully on it, then sprang back down. When she was thoroughly alone Lucy flew to her with a casual flick of power and landed silently, less than two metres from the giant.

Val Lynx turned with violent suddenness, lifting and cocking her pistol, but there was a white flash and the weapon, the hand and half of the forearm disintegrated, leaving a ragged stump which shot out a long stream of blood every half second. She lifted it slowly toward her face, looking at it with outraged shock, and turned to Lucy, whose teeth were barred at her.

"How humiliating," said Val. "Of all the ways to die I had to draw this shit."

The next vector hit her in the gut, pinned her to the tree which wobbled dangerously, and drew a gasp of pain. Lucy said something, and while Val couldn't understand it, the venom and spite were clear enough.

Still pinned by the hole in her body, she leaned back against the trunk: "Oh, much better. A sadist who can't say a fucking word I'll understand... might as well do this myself." With the remaining hand, she took out her knife and slit her own throat in a swift movement, then dropped the knife in the leaf-covered mud at her feet, grinned and gave a dumbstruck Lucy a grin and the universal middle finger.

The white column in Val's stomach disappeared, and blood gushed out of the hole much quicker than through her neck and stump. The giant captain collapsed at the roots of the torn and bloody trunk. Lucy gaped at her silently as she bled to death, shook her head and sprang away to deal with the black-coated little bitch.


	22. Reunion

"Hey! Why are you out of hospital?" Toshiko was right in front of Kouta almost as soon as she'd recognized him; he sat down on the sand, leaning on the highway's wall. "That guy in glasses might've missed your heart on purpose but the hole can still kill you," she said. "...Or was he a woman? Ah, who cares?"

"I thought Lucy might remember this place and come here," he said weakly. "I... I miss her a lot, you know."

"You mean the genocidal cunt that slaughtered upwards of a thousand people only this night, and almost killed me and my entire company? Man, you're in no fit state to face her. I don't think anyone is. She just destroyed a whole island! And as for missing her, just shut the hell up, you're giving me headaches again."

Kouta rose back slowly, noticing that Toshiko was not in the best shape herself. She was sweaty, and her face and coat were stained with plaster, a bit of blood, and water. "She's... here?"

"Around here. I'm more or less running away from her, and that's as hard to swallow as it gets," said Toshiko. "You've got to get out of here. My people don't need to meet you and you don't need to meet them, not to mention the mass murdering bitch wan... oh, shit." Lucy's presence was rather suddenly stronger than ever, and sure enough, when Toshiko slowly turned her throbbing head, there she was, over 3 metres away, safely out of reach. She let Kouta lean back on the wall, let go of her useless firearm, which dangled on her neck, and looked Lucy in the eyes. "What're you doing here? Don't you have people to slaughter in the town?"

Lucy grinned at her, but noticed Kouta. The grin collapsed and her eyes turned watery.

"Well, what's gotten into you?" screamed Toshiko, and looked from her to Kouta and back, then sneered. "What, let me guess... you want to kill everybody, but only after you've gotten down on your knees and sucked this kid's cock?" Kouta tried to turn her around, but she pulled her shoulder away. "Or maybe it's me you want? Well I'm below the age of consent here, and even if I were a dyke, your bullshit would be a deal breaker!"

Blood rose in Lucy's cheeks and a thick visible vector emerged from her chest, but receded at once. Toshiko's suspicion was correct: Lucy was loath to kill in front of Kouta. She laughed as obnoxiously as she could. "Well any fucking time now with that comeback!" She paced forward, holding out a vector to behead Lucy if she ever let her come too close, but an invisible wall stopped her at once, and it wasn't brusque, but her rifle crumbled on the ground in contorted pieces.

"You don't understand anything," said Lucy, with tears running down her face, and Toshiko's just-restored horn snapped off, eliciting a short scream and an immediate comment from Lucy: "You took it well enough last time!"

Toshiko was momentarily occupied with fighting off the painful confusion, but stood straight. Seeing her taking the horn breaking relatively unfazed, Kouta nudged her. "Please give me your coat." Toshiko did so unthinkingly. "And can you be a little less vulgar?"

"Kouta, I wanted to see you but not like..." Lucy saw the blood trail he'd left, and rushed toward him. "You're still hurt! Let's get you back to the hospital before it gets worse!"

"You stay away!" He said it with unexpected force and shoved the coat into her arms.

Toshiko was more or less back to normal, and barely quelled the urge to strike him: "Hey, my effects! Be fucked, asshole," she said, and he shook his head and shuffled away.

"Hey, I wanted to show you something," Kouta said to Lucy, but he didn't make it far; he collapsed, panting, and Lucy screamed his name. Toshiko saw her chance. She couldn't risk the noise of unholstering and cocking the pistol, but the knife was a different matter. Her hand strayed to its handle before Kouta even hit the ground. Lucy, stooped over him, didn't seem to notice as she drew the blade, almost as long as her forearm, out, and took a silent pace toward Lucy's exposed back, but he did, and the look of desperation on his face made Lucy turn. Rather than try to put the knife in Lucy's kidney, she sheathed it casually, walked up to them and shoved her aside forcefully – and had her hand flailed back with a vector.

"You've lost a lot of blood, you stupid kid," she said. She turned to Lucy, who was eyeing her with almost undiluted rage, but Toshiko wasn't about to go down while intimidated, and even less to have to live it down. "Put that fucking thing on as long as you have it." Toshiko was much smaller than Lucy, but the greatcoat still fit her well enough except the sleeves' length. It reached halfway down her thighs and even fit on her shoulders, which weren't any larger than Toshiko's well-muscled ones. "There's a bag of food in there. If you give a shit about this kid, give it here so I can feed him some."

Lucy fumbled for and extracted the bag. "I can do that," she said, and her voice trembled with rage. "And don't you touch me again!" Toshiko flipped her off, but Lucy was busy feeding Kouta the paste. He soon had enough and tried to get up, but Toshiko blocked him and picked him up easily, though he looked huge, lanky and cumbersome in her arms.

"Come on, let's get you back to the hospital... where is it?"

"No, I'll be alright! The water tower!... I want to show Lucy..."

"What, your prick? Whatever! If you've got a death wish I'll take you to the damned tower." She climbed the stairs in twos, followed by Lucy, and looked around. There was a plant of sorts, probably for purifying sea water, and a tall water tower to go with it, which had stairs and a ledge for sightseers. She pointed his face at the structure. "Is that it?"

"Yeah!"

"Good a place as any," said Toshiko, starting that way. "You _do_ acknowledge this hopeless-looking girl with pink hair following us as a prolific serial killer, right?"

His whole body tightened. "She killed my father and my sister; I know her well enough!"

Lucy stooped and gave a little sob.

"Sorry about that," said Toshiko, and told him about the demise of the Institute, and the hundreds of faceless, brain-damaged Diclonii which had died there who in time might've been able to live at least some sort of life, and the rescue attempt of her company, neglecting to mention the spaceships and the fact that most of her colleagues were post-human aliens, all of which were on Earth for the first time ever, and maybe the last. "So you see," she added, knowing that Lucy heard everything, "she will end up killing me, too, probably under your very nose, and more's the pity. She doesn't seem to want to kill in front of you but after what I said... I can't take her out, and I can't run away to get heavy artillery, not that it worked when we tried it. She took my vectors, and if I try anything else I'll be dead before I know it, just one more notch for the great killer. Here we are, then. Can you stand for a bit?" She wasn't being entirely truthful, for as long as she was alive, mostly whole and armed, she wouldn't discount the chance that the sharp but completely untrained Lucy would screw up and allow herself to be killed.

"Yeah, I think so."

Toshiko eased him on his own feet and kicked open the barred gate in the third hit. Sick of another woman handling him, Lucy scooped her shoulder under his arm and helped him climb, as Toshiko rushed up, brutalizing any doors that stood in her way.


	23. Water Tower

Toshiko stood carelessly on the railing, ignoring the sixty meter freefall and the magnificent sunrise view of one of Kamakura's harbours, nestled in a bay, and the far shore, behind her back. Lucy was rapt by it, though not enough for an attack by any stretch of the imagination, until Kouta started some nonsense about his sister, and confronted Lucy about her murder. Toshiko yawned, wondering when her death or her chance would come. She watched her enemy, oblivious to the substance of her long answer, but when she went on her knees crying, her pulse quickened with hope, and she shifted her feet off the railing to the floor. Lucy was almost oblivious of her now. 'Come on, you bitch, forget me... Aw, fuck!' Lucy had looked briefly at her, but she kept her internal turmoil that way.

She was apologizing to him, but, understandably, he couldn't forgive her. Stupidly, he was honest about it! Lucy looked briefly at Toshiko again. His answer had crushed her, but she was more alert toward Toshiko now, and she gave another speech, this time about how her DNA compelled her, like an inner voice that gave commands, to destroy the human species and repopulate the Earth with Diclonii.

Toshiko couldn't resist: "Bullshit! DNA doesn't talk, and we need human populations to breed! I work with normal humans all the time, and I can refer you to Nana and my sister, who had it worse than you and neither of them has become a serial killer. Doesn't that make you feel just special? Face it, you're just another nut. With your powers, you could have your own fucking... country and everyone would want to live in it. But, instead, you listen to the voices in your head." She immediately regretted speaking. 'Goddamn, I cannot shut the fuck up, and I almost said planet, too!'

Lucy was smiling, but it was a desperate smile. "Maybe that's true too. But I could never live with humans, and they never tried to live with me, except Kouta and his friends." Then back to Kouta, and back to complaining about acceptance and being bullied, which gave Toshiko mixed emotions: the more Lucy ignored her, the better, but it felt very unsatisfying and fell hard on her pride, coming to the strongest, by no small margin, of her own kind. Who was now walking away, but Kouta stopped her, and worked himself up until he was screaming into her face, trying to force her to promise never to kill anyone or use her power again. 'Kouta, you're either an idiot or a genius,' thought Toshiko elated, hoping with every fibre of her being that Lucy would promise, because even she would keep that promise for at least a split second too long. Any soldier worth her salt wouldn't need more than that!

"Kouta... I can't..." Lucy was whimpering; Kouta slumped and she had to support him. "Listen, let's go down... you can die if you don't get back to the hospital soon..." But he just repeated his demand more shrilly. Toshiko was pretty sure that, with the paste in his system, he wasn't in any real danger just yet, but she wasn't about to spoil the fun.

Finally, he said, soothingly: "If you promise me this, you can live with us at Kaede House again. Both Nyuu and Lucy." Toshiko frowned, incredulous at his apparent idiocy. She was sure he'd blown it. From everything she knew about how things worked, nobody would fall for that.

But it gave Lucy pause. "Would you really... forgive me?"

Toshiko had an urge to force him to say yes at gunpoint, but she suppressed the foolish instinct. "I'll never forgive you," said Kouta, "I hate your guts and I want you to die. But... if you were gone, Nyuu would be gone as well, and her I do not want to lose, she's part of the family." Toshiko clamped a hand over her mouth, her outrage boiling over. "If you want to come back with us, you've got to promise me!"

'Wait... he knows her. He knows what he's doing! Atta boy! Say it! Say it, you motherless bitch! It's high time!' Toshiko's hand crept, unnoticed, to her gun.

Lucy's presence became the weakest it had ever been since the island. "I... I swear it."

Toshiko's pistol came out at once, her left hand cocked it before adding its grasp, and the bullet flew through the air at supersonic speed. It broke Lucy's left horn, and fell on the floor as if from rest, against all the laws of physics. Lucy gave a long, agonized scream and collapsed in an immodest heap.

"You don't take that very well," said Toshiko, a murderer's grin spread all over her face. With a short exhaled yell, she kicked Lucy's head, breaking her jaw visibly, put two bullets in it, and two in her chest, then secured her gun with a slow, theatrical gesture, swished it a bit and holstered it. The disappearance of Lucy's presence was an enormous relief. "I can't believe you let me do that!" She stopped over Lucy and cut off an ear as proof. Kouta was staring aghast at her; she wanted to slap his shoulder hard, but remembering his injury, she did it daintily, and started down the stairs. "Ha-ha, my man! You beautiful son of a bitch, you played her like a puppet! 'Stop killing people and I'll take you back in!' Great stuff, that, cold as this bitch's evil heart, but great! I did _not_ know you had it in you. Now, come on, you need to get back in, um, in hospital. Did I say that right?"

His punch hit her in the jaw and doubled her over, but it was too weak to bring her down. "You think I did that _to bring her guard down?_" he yelled. "You think I'd stoop to your level, you murdering bitch?" He fell on his knees, then crumpled on the ground, grabbing his wounded, bleeding chest, and Toshiko pulled him up like a rag doll.

She wanted to rail at him and tear him in half, but she fought to control herself. "Didn't I just tell you she destroyed an entire small island? It's better off this way, believe me." She pulled up her chin, showing off her neck, which had a superficial gash in it. "Look at this, then! She was almost as fast as me, and only blocked the bullet too late because she didn't expect me to go for a peripheral, relatively hard to hit, non-vital point. And that was when she was vulnerable and slow. I'll get you some help, you'll be fine."

Kouta struggled. "Let go of me! Get your hands off me!"

She removed her hands. "Alright, alright. Goddamned Ea- um, Japanese culture. For a civilian like _you_ it's probably natural to think that killing even her like that is bad, and that's fine. Just don't confuse me with one; I'm not some civilian shrinking violet with horns – one horn, rather. I kill for a _living_! Remember that if you ever feel like hitting me again. Well, good-bye."

And she started back down the stairs. Long before the other Diclonius could even get close, she found herself almost colliding with a middle-aged man in rather dishevelled clothes and with a wild mess of hair. In the next second, Toshiko and he had each other at gunpoint.

"If you're a mugger, you chose as badly as you're holding that sidearm, old man," she said slowly. The man was holding the gun in one hand, with the other idling at his side. At first he had frozen in horror, but composed himself almost at once.

"I am no such thing," he said with more composure than expected. "Where is Lucy? I saw you go up here with her and a boy."

Toshiko tilted her head back. "Wait, you know about these things?"

"Yes, I know about these things. Lucy, Diclonii, the Institute... if anybody knows, I do," he said impatiently. "Where is she? I also know you can't use vectors with that broken horn."

"How about it's none of your goddamned business? What's your name, anyway?"

"It's Kurama, if that means anything! Look, I have to..."

"I know, I know, Lucy," said Toshiko, and her face twisted into the killer grin again. "I'm Yamada Toshiko, and you need to start worrying about yourself, _Mister_ Kurama. Nana told me about you! Or should I call you Mengele?" With that she lunged, pushing his pistol out of the way with her left hand (a shot went off into the sky), head-butted him, took his weapon as he fell against the railing and tossed it behind her. "You see, I'm not useless without my vectors. Like I said, worry about yourself, not Lucy; you're in a world of shit and she's a little dead just now."

Kurama stood right back up, followed by her pistol. "What? How?"

"I killed her with this gun," said Toshiko, and then suddenly howled: "That's enough! If you've got a good reason why I should let you live, you had best sound off NOW!" The incoming Diclonius was at the base of the tower, and climbed its outside effortlessly.

"Nana will be crushed if you kill me," he said with infuriating calm. "Go ahead and shoot me if you hate her; she's the only reason I haven't completely lost my mind yet."

"BULLSHIT! You think Stockholm syndrome is the same as real love?"

"Toshiko-san!" Nana was hovering in mid air, without visible support, wearing an overly large dark blue tracksuit with an assorted cap. "No! You must not hurt Papa!" The pistol crumpled in Toshiko's arm and she flew, gasping, into the water tower's wall. Nana's vectors pinned her.

"Nana..." she managed in a choked voice. "Let me kill him! He's a fucking stain on the cheek of humanity!"

"No! It's not that stocking thing you said! Nana loves Papa and will do anything for him! Promise me you won't hurt Papa, or I won't let you go!" She landed between Kurama and Toshiko. "I didn't feel you, and your horn is missing, so you can't fight back," she went on more calmly. "Please, Toshiko-san... I don't want to hurt you. But I _will_."

Toshiko choked and coughed on her own laughter. "I like your war face, Nana; you could make lesser humans need the brown pants looking like that! But seriously, to see you crying for him, _threatening me _for him... Look. If he doesn't try any shit, and I don't get any orders to, I won't kill him, but beyond that I'm promising nothing. If that's not enough, just let him pick up that gun over there and you will see your beloved Papa's true colours when he puts one in my skull." She gagged when Nana swung back to Kurama and pleaded with him obsequiously:

"Papa... you will not hurt Toshiko-san, right? She's the one who saved me and took me to those nice people who grew my arms and legs back..."

"No, I won't hurt her," he said tiredly. Nana turned back to Toshiko and set her down on her feet. The soldier was ogling her with an expression of vast outrage.

"You've got to be shitting me!" she yelled. "You told him everything?" Nana's mood seemed to instantly repair itself. She actually giggled, and shook her head. "Come here," said Toshiko, crossing her arms. "Tell me what you _haven't_ said!"

Nana whispered (pretty loudly) in her ear: "Papa thinks that those nice people are somewhere here on Earth." She straightened back, grabbed Toshiko's exposed hand in both of her own and spoke normally: "What happened to Lucy-san? Her presence vanished at the top of this tower! And – and where is Kouta-san? Have you seen him?"

Toshiko snatched her hand away forcefully and showed her the ear. "Your Lucy problems are over. She fucked up and I shot her. She's at the top of the tower with that kid – shit, I forgot about him. He needs to get back to the hospital, he's in bad shape! Speaking of bad shape where's Mirai? Damned weird to not be familiar with my sister's name. How's Mayu doing?"

"Mirai-chan is with Mayu-chan and the others. She's really shy, but they're very good to her, and with all that money you gave them they have a lot to go with for a long time."

"Well, give them my best wishes! I'll make sure to visit once I get some leave." She turned to Kurama again. "Can you even keep Nana in decent standards, dick-brain?"

He scowled. "I'm not going to grace that with an answer."

"You really shouldn't use such bad words, Toshiko-san," said Nana, red to the ears.

"Yeah, no shit. I hear it's due to my young age. Listen, I've got to be off, and while we're talking here Kouta is slowly bleeding to death up there." Nana gasped and covered her mouth. "If you want a good education, our offer is still up. Meantime, see you around!"

"Come on, Nana," said Kurama. "Let's see about that boy... and Lucy."

Toshiko allowed them to take a few paces up the stairs before calling at his back: "Don't forget your gun, dick-brain!" With that, she hurried back down the tower, and Nana shook her head and climbed on up, vector-snatching the pistol and handing it to Kurama. For the moment, the killing was over.


	24. Queen's Death

They were cornered and afraid. One could taste it in the stale, toxic air, and could even understand it with a basic understanding of their chemical language, and Private Yamada loved it and hated it at the same time, supposedly the only sane reaction a soldier could have to battle... to real battle. The thinned out platoon sloshed forward through the vast chamber, filled up to just under a meter at the edges with water that was saturated in salts, and eerily illuminated by the lights fixed on every soldier's left shoulder as well as on their rifles. The air had oxygen, but also a lot of shit which irritated her skin and her lungs, but the chill at least was pleasant, though not in water. The platoon's fatigues, as well as Toshiko's sweater, were in the same mixture of white, light blue and light purple as the cave's walls. Gibbons and Vincent Abbot were leading the way. The huge planet pulled with 2 full G's, but the ECCC's were used to it.

The salt bugs were in full retreat, but they had nowhere left to go. Gibbons signalled two firing teams to advance through two side tunnels and chase down stragglers who were trying to escape; the bulk of the platoon's remnant, seventeen people, advanced toward the narrow end of the chamber which was a choke point to the next, even bigger one, where Tac-com had informed them that the salt bug queen had retreated and was stuck, and the last resistance was expected there. The rest of their company, and elements of two more, including one of friendlysalt bugs, were advancing toward the room: a scratch battalion, gathered together from the least damaged available forces after the last real push.

The creatures were technically not even bugs, more like slugs – social slugs, not much different from ants, but their queens were smarter than humans, and the drones as smart. Their modern weapon technology was mostly limited to chemical weapons (of which this cut off group had almost none left) and flamethrowers, and they built salt shells on their soft, boneless bodies. The salt bugs of planet Lee were divided into no less than six hive clusters, some more united than others, with complex politics and wars, and the biggest and most aggressive one had attacked human-held territory, but their main inroad had been chased off the surface by air and orbital bombardment and was now being stamped out ruthlessly. But losses had been heavy in the salt bugs' attack, and not much better in the counterattack, with engagements stretching into the seventh month in Earth time; the great Captain Val Lynx had fallen on Earth ten months ago; the loss still stung, especially in the field. She'd been promoted posthumously to Commandant (an intermediate rank between Captain and Major in the FFP armed forces, and the lowest 'field rank') and cremated with full honours.

One of the creatures had emerged out of the shallows on the far side and was clinging on the wall – a massive lump, bigger and heavier than Toshiko, with a crust of salt on its main body, and six lesser lumps coming out of it, one folded over a xenomorphic flame thrower, another, around a thick flashlight of sorts. The salt bug, which was not much better adapted to the dark, wet cave than its human enemies, was hiding the fuel tank with its body; it tried to clamber into the hole but a few rifles rattled briefly and, with a high-pitched scream, it fell onto the sloping crystalline wall, oozing pink liquid into the water through large holes. A metal semi-sphere, attached by a transparent tube to its weapon, fell off the overturned creature and sank.

Almost at once, a massive torrent of purple flame was ejected into the chamber, and eight of the attackers had to duck into the water, which itself burned badly enough. Only Toshiko could beat the flames away with her vectors. The large jet soon subsided, and it was replaced by several smaller and shorter ones as well as jets of green sludge, which crackled in contact with the fire and produced chlorine gas that snaked about on the water's surface. "Don't breathe that shit, it'll kill you," Gibbons warned redundantly. The platoon returned with only small arms fire. Nobody wanted to bury their whole platoon alive and maybe others, on the cusp of victory, and the salt bugs weren't good at large scale destruction – except of living things.

"Stay put, Gibbons," yelled Major Kelley, the new company commander, into the lieutenant's headphones. "You're ahead; we all go in at the same time!"

"Yes sir! We're giving fire from the outside!"

"Alright, carry on. Get what you can without trying to get in, we're almost there."

"Roger that, sir!" The call was over; Gibbons stole a look back. "Yamada, to me."

She waded to him, her left leg, hurt on Earth, still giving her a bit of grief. "Sir?"

"I want you to project through the wall to tear some salt bugs open without damaging it."

"Yes sir." She had that insufferable slasher grin on again. He looked at the long scar on her forehead, where a salt bug had tried to chop off her left horn.

"But don't stay more than a few seconds; they won't like it."

"On it, sir," she said, and hugged the wall, advancing to the small entrance from the right as silently as she could. When she was close enough, she stood still for a couple of seconds, and the other side erupted in a nightmarish cacophony of high yells, splashing noises and shuffling. After counting down from five, Toshiko slammed two new, wholly solid projections into the wall, propelling herself into the water and disturbing the chlorine on it, and a few moments later a number of skewered jets of purple flame seared black the spot where she'd been. Even as they continued to give sporadic fire, chipping away at the entrance's edges, the platoon congratulated her profanely and there were many very heavy claps on her shoulders as she emerged out of the water in their midst.

Even Gibbons said, "Good work, private! Be careful with that chlorine."

After a while, Kelley called again. "All groups in position. Attack now."

"Yes sir! Coleridge, Antonova, you give covering fire on the left. Napier, you and I will do the same on the right. Yamada will tear up the left side like she did the right. Sanders, you're number one. Peron, number two, Abbot, number three, Depardieu, number four. Go, go, go!"

The soldiers rushed in, the four coverers braving the fire and the sludge, and the cave erupted in gunfire and high-pitched yells. Gibbons' head was caught by a flame, which clung to it, blinding him momentarily and causing him to lunge into the wall and crumple on top of the dead salt bug from earlier, but he continued to signal his troops in, by pointing his index up and swinging his right forearm in a circle.

The final chamber was being overrun. About fifty humans and thirty of their salt bug allies, distinguished by the sharp green stains on their salt coverings, had rushed into the room where the invasion-leading queen's final bodyguard made a last stand around the vast, chequered creature herself. The guards resisted bravely with flame, poison and crystal knives, and one of them managed to lodge such a weapon in Toshiko's right shoulder, breaking it off. Yelling, Toshiko burst the thing apart with her vectors and climbed up to the queen, which was already squirming and screaming under fire from a few humans and a salt bug, swinging long pseudo-pods wielding stalactites and stalagmites as clubs at them. One such club fell upon Yamada, but her vectors tore it and tossed it aside, limb included, then ripped straight into the queen's core. A milky pink flow poured out of the dying queen, inundating her boots up to the ankles while, with her last effort, she managed to break another club on the back of a PH, sending him on all fours. Two others held him up as the last resistance died out. The final enemy combatant, a drone with a huge flamethrower, was shot down by freshly minted Captain Chaliapin as he tried to escape through one of the top entrances, falling instead at the lieutenant's feet.

The victorious humans whooped loudly; their allied salt bugs released a poignant musk which meant the same thing and mixed unpleasantly with the stench of burnt flesh, death, chlorine and badly aired salty cave. "Nicely done, private!"

Toshiko turned to the voice and saluted. "Thanks, sir!"

Richard Kelley, her company commander and executive officer (XO) of the final reduction of the invasion nucleus, smiled at her. He was an original PH, and at 185 cm, on the short side; two of his troopers were holding him up and even so he was unsteady on his feet. "Hey, you're a kid! Is this your first time, err... Yamada?"

"First real war, sir. I did some work on Earth about 300 nictemers ago."

"Earth? Well, don't you let those pussies soften you up!"

"No chance in hell, sir!"

"That's a good girl. Keep up the good slaughter!"

Another officer climbed onto the queen's pedestal – Major Elle Washington Carver, the CO, a wizened sixty-six year old Earth-born black cyborg. She looked normal, but her muscles had atrophied in her youth and were supplanted by very hard to make and energy-thirsty artificial ones which could handle the 2.02 g's of the planet, though not that well in combat – their strength was about average between normal human and PH, or about the same as a top-level professional athlete. "Ladies, gentlemen, allies! Congratulations on a job well done. Cluster One's invasion has been officially defeated; all that remains is mop-up which will be done by the rest of the battalion, so we can all look forward to some well-earned R&R, and the more civilized comforts of Lee. Personally, I can't wait for the sack time!" Getting enough sleep was a well-appreciated comfort for most soldiers at war. Major Carver stepped off the ledge carefully. "Alright, let's get the hell out of here!"

"Form up!" yelled the sergeants and lieutenants, and the soldiers left the corpses of their slug-like enemies to an incendiary grenade, and made their way to the surface, almost a kilometre above.


	25. Births

Even in the middle of the celebrations which came with winning the first campaign of a war, 2LT Gibbons and his platoon sergeant Abbot insisted on keeping up with the platoon's PT, tactical exercises and drills, but after months of war, the days after the queen's death still counted as blissful relaxation. Toshiko's shoulder was being fixed without any need for reparatory medicine, and she predictably insisted on keeping the scar. Gibbons had ordered her to keep the arm in a sling, though that didn't spare her from PT – she had spare arms.

Still, it staved off any remote chance at getting bored one might have, so Toshiko was content. One evening, she was feeling particularly content, after a nice shower, so that she was wearing standard issue army fatigues as she wrote about the war and the planet to Sazuko, who was again onboard the Herod, hiding behind Earth's moon. Her hair was an even 5 centimetres now. Her desk was back to back with PFC Lawrence, who was doing her own work, and suddenly snapped to attention, calling Toshiko to do the same.

Gibbons appeared from behind the bunk, holding a file, as the two women saluted; his entire head was still covered in a big bandage which only had slits for eyes, mouth and nose. "Back to your desk, Lawrence," he said, returning the salute, "At ease, Yamada." She assumed the correct stance, sling notwithstanding, and Gibbons looked her up and down. "You look a lot better in uniform, Yamada," he said.

"Thank you sir," she said warily.

He brandished the file: "News from Colonel Southouse. It seems Homo Diclonius isn't finished on Earth. There have been births across the Globe, over ten thousand in one month and a lot more incoming. They're starting to administer a vaccine, but it'll be years and more than a hundred million Diclonii before they sort this out."

She was suitably shocked. "Holy shit... what's Earth going to do about them?"

Gibbons stooped his head slightly. "They're a world of banking and overpopulation. What do _you_ think they'll do?" The projected hundred million births were by themselves a little over four times the entire FFP's population.

She looked aghast at him, and the lieutenant nodded curtly. "Bastards," she hissed. "A hundred million of us? That's enough to run ten FFP's! And those fucking idiots on Earth will just kill them. I'm all _for_ bloodshed but they still make me sick!"

"Yeah, well they can't educate Diclonii properly, can they? I mean, three year old kids with the power to turn adults into sausage meat, almost literally with a thought? All of you need PH educators or you have to grow in isolation until you're socialized somehow. Not only is either a sorry-assed way to grow, but it needs a lot of real estate. Earth's overcrowded and they think you're all mass murdering psychos anyway."

"Then – then we are getting them out of there, aren't we, sir?"

"Negative, Yamada, _we_ aren't doing anything. The feds have sent the Hawking Task Force with Third Army to extract as many of the babies as possible. But don't expect any wonders; there are only so many we can take, and Earth _will_ make trouble. The downer, for you at least, is that once they start growing up, we'll recruit the most able and level-headed, and the rest will lose their inevitable war with the normal humans, and the papers are talking about casualties that will make World War 2 look like a picnic."

"Shit... well I'll have to get my sister and Nana to get the hell off Earth already; I like them both but they definitely don't pack the 'gear' to survive in a war zone, sir. Not to mention it's high time they got serious about careers."

"You'll have to keep your mind on the business here, private!"

"Of course, sir. Wouldn't want those overgrown slugs to forget who's boss."

Gibbons planted his fists on his hips. "No shit! You think we're better than the salt bugs by default, or for some half-assed reason straight out of Mein Kampf?"

"Not what I meant, sir. Cluster one is basically the salt bugs' Nazi Germany, since you brought Mein Kampf up. So fuck'em all."

He picked at his itchy bandage. "Well, you can ask Sawbones to sort those kids out. She's much better than you at that sort of thing."

"Leave the bandage, sir, you'll only make it worse. Anyway, Sazuko can't speak Japanese and the girls can't speak English, but thanks for the idea. I'll ask Terry – I mean Lieutenant Colonel Southouse to do it. I don't know about me, but he's very attached to Nana and Mirai. So he'll probably do it by himself. We'd have to bring that disgusting Kurama fellow along, Nana has a major Stockholm syndrome crush on him."

Gibbons put the file on her desk. "Let's just hope Sawbones won't sign _his _papers. Well, the LTC sent this to you by name. You just make sure to keep your mind here on Lee, or I will have your ass, and if I don't then Cluster one definitely will. Evening, Yamada."

"Evening, sir!" They saluted each other again; Gibbons turned on his heels and went about his own business. Toshiko sat on her chair, and tried to focus back on the message for Sazuko, but for a long time she could only think about the legions of Diclonius children being born on Earth, and most of their lives would be thrown away on the whims of Earth's asinine governments, and she felt like she would gladly turn the mother world's entire surface into glass.

The culture shock was inevitable and experienced at some point by everybody living in the FFP, humanity's secret cosmic exclave, a militarized state which held sway over some twenty-four million souls, seven more or less hospitable planets, though none as verdant as Earth, and parts of a couple dozens more, such as Lee, and crossed the unimaginable distances of their tiny corner of the Milky Way on partially understood technology from their former masters, who had taken the first people off Earth a half century earlier to use them as weapons of conquest. Out in the open of space, the rules were different, and only the old hands and other Earth-born recruits brought in as adults understood the planet. And as far as it was concerned, she, Yamada Toshiko, was an alien, not that much more familiar than a salt bug would be. She put this in her message to Sazuko, and ended the paragraph with 'Hell, I probably have more in common with them than Earth's people.'

_Well, that's my contribution, and the first short story I ever finished. Derailing the continuity of fiction works I like is one of my favourite brain 'exercises'. I have more ideas, but I'd rather see if they're welcome before I commit more time to a sequel._

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